Time Is Never Time At All
by Corky the Quirk
Summary: Camille and Alicia come across six boys while riding in the feilds of Western Wisconsin. The only problem is it's 2009 and the boys have no idea...The sequel is up and its called A Twist In Time
1. Madame Schleffel

Blink, Mush, Snitch, Racetrack, and Davey walked amiably down the cobblestone streets of 1899 New York. They were accompanied by Spot, who was scowling behind them, quite unusual for the typically cheeky and stable leader of Brooklyn. He glanced behind him for what seemed like the millionth time. The old hag that claimed to tell of the future was still following them.

She was muttering under her breath to herself as she pulled her thin and tattered shawl tighter around her shoulders. Her eyes were bugged and they appeared to be escaping from her scull as the one eyeball looked aimlessly in different directions. Her feet were bulging out from her size-to-small shoes, making her already chubby figure look larger.

The others hadn't seemed to notice the odd woman following them, but Spot was beginning to be creeped out by her strange behavior. He knew the other newsies and he could take her if she turned out to be mad, but something about her made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He scowled in frustration at his emotion of fear, however small it was, and continued along sulkily behind the other boys.

* * *

"Oh, c'mon! Please?" Alicia was begging of her friend.

Camille looked at the shifty fortune teller booth. It was the 2009 annual Washington County Fair and Alicia desperately wanted to see Camille's 'future'. "I don't know," Camille trailed off doubtfully.

"Please, please, please!" Alicia clasped her hands together and jumped up and down.

Camille ran a hand through her hair, regretfully giving in to her bubbly friend. "Alright," she agreed.

"WOO!" Alicia whooped. "I'm so excited to see what she says! You won't even let me read you your horoscope! Won't this be fun?" She kept on talking about the joy of fortune telling and tarot cards all throughout the time they were waiting in line.

Finally Camille spun around, her dark curls swinging violently. "Okay," she breathed out. "I think we need to be quiet inside the tent, so let's practice being quiet, shall we?"

Alicia pouted. She crossed her arms. "Fine," she mumbled.

"Thank you." Camille turned back to face the front of the line.

Behind her Alicia muttered cheerily, "I still win."

When her turn came, Camille grabbed Alicia and dragged her into the purple tent behind her. No way was she going into that place alone. The scent of strong incense burned the girls' noses. "Ow!" Alicia murmured through the thick smoke.

"Sit down my dears," came a voice made scratchy from excessive smoking.

The two sat on cushioned stools across from the speaker, who was sitting on the other side of the round table in the tent.

The woman perched on the stool was old and rather plump, she held out her hand, accepting the money Camille forked over with her sausage-like fingers. Camille's hand looked as if it were made of twigs next to this woman. The lady was slightly hunched over and she continued to tug her ratty shawl closer. She stared at the two with large round eyes that popped out of her face. The one eyeball wandered, reminding the girls of a toad.

"Give your hands to Madame Schleffel," the, presumably, Madame Schleffel rasped out in instruction.

Camille uncertainly reached her hands over to where Madame Schleffel was waiting with her own arms outstretched. With one last fleeting glare at Alicia, who sat transfixed already, Camille gave Schleffel her full attention. The woman closed her eyes and grasped Camille's hands in her own.

Schleffel jolted upright in her seat as soon as she had come in contact with Camille's skin, shaking all over. Alicia's mouth dropped in horror at the old lady. "Oh my God," Camille whispered sharply, trying to pry her hands from Schleffel's tightening grasp. "What's happening?" Camille hissed in panic at Alicia.

"I—I—I—" her friend blubbered, unable to take her eyes from the seizing Schleffel.

Camille began jerking violently, trying to save her hands from the circulation endangering vice grip Schleffel had on her. "Help!" Camille cried.

Suddenly, Madame Schleffel's head slumped to her chest, mouth agape, and went still. The girls were breathing heavily, but paused in shock.

"Is she dead?" Alicia whispered, leaning forward slightly.

Madame Schleffel's head snapped up, her eyes bulging, now covered with a haze, and began to speak with an ominous tone. "They're coming. They're coming. Be ready. Be ready. Be ready."

Camille was broken from her shocked trance the moment the woman had begun to talk to them. "Please," she was begging, "Madame Schleffel, let me go." She was tugging once again at her hands.

"Chip! Be ready! Be ready, Chip! Be ready!" the woman repeated, then her head slumped back down to her chest and she released Camille.

The old woman blinked, as if just waking up. "Right," she said. "Ready for your fortune?"

* * *

Running from the tent as fast as Camille's feet would take her, Alicia hot on her heels, she shook her head, trying to rid herself of the traumatic even that had just ensued. "What the hell?!" she was mumbling, passersby giving her odd looks.

Then, the scratchy voice that could only belong to Madame Schleffel rang out. "COME BACK!"

Camille turned to see the crotchety fortune teller waddling speedily in their direction. "Really?!" Alicia squealed in disbelief.

Camille's eyes widened. "Shit," she latched her hand onto Alicia's wrist. "Run!" As they sprinted towards the fairground parking lot, to the safety of Alicia's car.

"NO!" Madame Schleffel howled behind them. "What did I say? What did I SAY?!" Schleffel was losing ground. "Oi." She muttered, dragging her old, withered body along.

"The old bat sure doesn't give up, does she?" Alicia commented.

Camille jerked her friend, "Keep moving!"

They reached the little red Grand AM and whipped the doors open. Alicia climbed into the driver's side, as Camille clamored clumsily into the passenger seat. "I am _never_ listening to you again! Ever!" Camille gasped, searching wildly to see if Madame Schleffel had backed down.

She hadn't.

The girls saw her hobble from between the dairy barn and the craft's contest hall, heading their direction.

"Really?!" Alicia squeaked again, this time a higher and more frightened pitch.

"Go!" Camille yelled, voice cracking as the old lady's eyes fell upon the Grand AM.

"I thought old people couldn't see well!" Alicia exclaimed, ramming into reverse.

"Does she _seem_ like a normal old person to you?" Camille sarcastically replied.

What the hell was going on? The wheels in her head were turning at an immensely fast pace. Had Madame Schleffel really foreseen something? No, it was improbable, impossible. But then why was she chasing after them in agony? It was clear that her weathered body was causing her pain in her attempts to catch the girls. And what in the world did she mean by, "They're coming. Be ready, Chip!" Who were _they_? And who was _Chip_?

Madame Schleffel watched the two young women roll away from the fairgrounds. Had she been younger and subject to childish behavior, she would have stomped her foot. She waited until the red car was out of sight before turning to limp slowly back to her dreary tent. After that rare episode it was going to be quite the boring day of making up fortunes.

* * *

The haggard soothsayer was still walking behind the group in a deranged way the next time Spot checked. "Okay, dat's it!" he hissed in exasperation. The others heard him and turned, finally noticing their nighttime stalker. They exchanged glances, their gazes coming to rest on Spot. "That old hag's been followin' us since we started out," he explained. "I say we confront her. Tell her ta cheese it."

"Don't be too harsh, Spot," Davey stepped forward, ever the kind, gentlemanly sort.

"I ain't gonna be harsh," Spot glared back at the taller boy. "I'se just gonna tell 'er where ta stick it!"

Mush and Blink laughed, trailing off abashedly when Davey shot them an unapproving look. "Spot, she's an old woman; she probably needs help with something. Like fixing shingles, or getting a cat down from a tree," he brainstormed, waving his hand vaguely.

"Yeah?" Spot challenged. "Well she's followin' da wrong guys."

During Davey and Spot's argument, the old crackpot had come close enough for the boys to hear what she had been mumbling to herself. "They're waiting. They're waiting. Prepare yourselves. They're waiting."

Spot glared down at her. "Yeah, they're waitin' for ya at the mad house."

"Spot!" Davey scolded. He was rewarded with another one of Spot's poisonous looks.

"Prepare yourselves. Prepare yourselves," the bug eyed old shrew stumbled forward, grabbing a bit of Spot's shirt in her grasp. He immediately pulled away, but the old woman had an iron grip. "Prepare Spot! They're waiting!"

Spot choked on whatever he was going to say. The old lady blinked a few times, then looked back to the boys. Her eyes were a little less clouded it seemed. "Oh," she said in surprise. "Hello dears, please, excuse me." Then she patted Spot on the chest where she had been holding on so tightly and dragged her ragged body away.

Snitch stood shivering, his thumb dangerously close to his quivering mouth. Mush put an arm around him. Racetrack, who had surprisingly kept his mouth shut the whole time, now stepped forward. "That lady needs ta be locked away!" He puffed out a cloud of smoke from the cigar he had been smoking.

Spot nodded, baffled. "Let's keep going," he advised slowly.

The boys continued walking, an awkward silence hovering above them. The streets suddenly seemed deserted. "Why did Jack have to call this meeting so late?" Snitch whimpered.

"No worries, Snitchy," Racetrack reassured. "We'll help ya out if an axe murderah appeahs. Unless o' course he offs us first…"

Snitch moaned in frightened agony, as Race guffawed at his wimpish friend.

"Hey look!" Mush shouted, pointing toward a loaded up carriage. There was a large crate, postmarked 'WISC' on the side. The oddity of the box was that a dull glow emanated through the cracks from the inside. Blink curiously walked closer.

Something about the mysteriousness of the object drew him to it, urging him to go on. He found himself reaching out towards the crate.

"Careful now, Blink," Davey murmured, staring at the box in an unexplainable awe. In fact, the six newsies were so crowded, wide-eyed, around Blink that at least a bit of them was touching him as they peered over his shoulders. His outstretched hand crept closer, hesitating about half an inch away from the box.

And then he touched it.


	2. Newsies Don't Exist Anymore

**Author's Note:** Okay, so...this chapter is a tad dull and I don't know if I'm really all that happy with it, but I felt it was necessary to put in. So I hope you enjoy it anyway!

**Disclaimer:** I realize I forgot to put this in the first chapter: I don't own Newsies, or any of the amazing boys that make up Newsies :(

On with the story!

* * *

Pulling up the driveway, Camille and Alicia had never been so relieved to see the sprawling, not to mention failing, horse ranch that was Camille's home. Her parents were absent for the month to come due to a business trip, so Alicia had graciously, and greedily, accepted to stay with Camille while they were away. The ranch house was of average size, made out of wood and restored from the late eighteen hundreds. The other buildings on the spread included two updated barns and a slightly dilapidated bunkhouse from back when it was a working ranch. There was a small stove and ten bunks still in the dorm-like building where Alicia and Camille had slept and played cowboys so many times in their youth.

Getting out of the car, Camille nervously dragged her fingers through her tangled curls. Her heart was still pounding, and, meeting Alicia's eyes across the top of the car, she knew her friend felt to same.

Camille nodded to her friend, then headed towards the nearest barn.

"We goin' riding?" Alicia asked, trotting after Camille.

""Grab Acorn," was Camille's curt reply.

Alicia smiled fleetingly, momentarily forgetting her pounding heart. She realized this was probably the reasoning behind this impromptu ride. Camille was always calm and tranquil when riding her horse, Arrow. And Alicia would never turn down a chance to ride her designated steed, Acorn.

The girls mounted and started out into the plains surrounding the land on which the ranch resided. The horses eased the girl's rapidly pounding hearts and soon Alicia was comfortable enough to suggest a race. "You know you always lose," Camille smirked over at Alicia.

"I do _not_ always lose. Besides your horse is bred to be faster. Plus he's younger and—"

"YAH!" Camille spurred Arrow, loosening the reins so Arrow had full control. The horse sprang into a full out gallop, flying across the flat ground.

"And you're a cheater!" Alicia yelled, willing Acorn to run. The fat little morgan began to trot happily, picking up speed as he went.

Camille checked behind her, laughing gaily. She watched Alicia as Acorn desperately attempted to catch up. She grinned, then turned back to watch where she was going. There was a sudden flash, as if looking unexpectedly directly into the sun. Arrow came to a dead halt, pitching Camille out of the saddle and over the horse's head. "Ahhh!" Camille wailed in a cracking voice as she flew through the air.

She knocked into something soft, yet firm, before tumbling to the ground on top of it. Camille groaned, and at the same time heard an "oof!" come from below her. She opened her hazel eyes to be met with orbs of cool steel and frosty blue.

They each screamed, scrambling away from each other. "Who are you?" they asked in unison.

Camille sat on the ground, moth open, staring at the boy in front of her. He was glowering, as if completely outraged that she had landed upon him, knocking him off his feet. At the same time, she took in the pure handsomeness of the young man. His eyes were cold now, a mix of silverish-gray and light-blue. His nose was cute and slightly upturned, and his mouth was twisted into an unattractive grimace. She couldn't really see his hair, since it was hidden underneath his outdated and worn hat…much like his other articles of clothing.

Camille gulped, then heard the sound of hooves approach from behind her. She glanced up to where Alicia sat, gaping. Quickly Camille sprang up to snatch Arrow's reins. She looked back to the boy that had broken her fall, and noticed for the first time that he wasn't the only new comer present. There was an entire group.

Each of the six boys in front of them stood in a slightly defensive stance, except for one fidgety boy who appeared to be hiding behind one of his friends. The boy hiding had wide doe eyes and buck teeth, a lock of brown hair fell from his dusty hat in the center of his forehead. There was a blonde boy with an eye patch who was taller than Camille and, despite his current pose of defense, he seemed out of place with fighting. Beside him was a curly-haired, oatmeal-skinned boy of about the same stature, however, his body type seemed more suited for a fight. Behind the boy that Camille had been thrown into was a short guy with dark hair and a cigar hanging from his grinning mouth, the look on his face anticipatory. Lastly, there was a young man only half-heartedly in a defensive position. His large blue eyes were fixed adoringly on Alicia, and he absentmindedly adjusted the cap he had on over his brown curls.

The boy standing in front of Camille was still sneering, presumably about the unpleasant impact. As she opened her mouth to repeat the question she had previously asked, there was a snap and a squeak from above as a small creature fell, landing perfectly on Camille's shoulder. She looked at the startled chipmunk with wide eyes. In the little thing's fear, it somehow scrambled right down Camille's shirt collar, causing her to squeal and squirm around, shaking in an attempt to get the vermin out of her shirt.

Alicia, who had forgot momentarily about the possible threat of the six boys, nearly peed her pants laughing. Finally, the chipmunk made its escape with an indignant chittering and ran off to find a better and safer area to reside. "Shut up," Camille snapped at her giggly friend.

The boy with the eye patch broke out into a magnificent grin, catching Camille off guard. "I suppose we could call you Chip," he remarked.

Camille froze. "What did you call me?"

"Er, Chip?" he repeated. "If you'se don' like it, we'se don' have ta call you'se dat—"

"Alicia, he called me Chip!" Camille yelled to her still mounted friend.

Alicia quirked her head. "Yeah…" she trailed off, clearly missing the point.

The scowler with the red suspenders stepped closer. "So what if he called ya Chip?" he remarked.

"Yeah," the cigar-smoking Italian joined. "Why you'se so worked up ovah it?"

Camille blinked at them then turned back to Alicia who had dismounted and stood next to her now. "That's what Madame Schleffel called me when she warned us to be ready," Camille explained to Alicia.

"Madame Schleffel?" Cigar boy questioned with a sarcastic tone.

"Mmhmm!" Alicia exclaimed. "She's this weird fortune teller lady whose all hunched over with this nasty shawl thing and her one eye is, like, crazy and can look in any direction and—"

Camille punched Alicia in the arm. "Hey!" Alicia protested.

The boys had been looking at each other in shock. Camille took this as their surprise for being found out, assuming they were hired by Madame Schleffel. "I'm thinking Schleffel had a few people follow us," she theorized. "Just to find out where we live, and to make her 'fortune' plausible." The brunette crossed her arms. "So the question stands," she continued. "Who _are_ you?"

"And why are you wearing such weird clothes?" Alicia chimed in. Camille gave her a withering look.

"_We're_ dressed weird?" the cigar boy scoffed. "You goils are wearin' pants."

"Well we're certainly not going to walk around in our underwear," Alicia snorted. Camille sighed in exasperation and raked her fingers through her hair.

The boy that had been staring at Alicia moved forward now, ot of the blue. He offered his hand to Alicia. "I'm David Jaccobs," he said, taking her hand and kissing it.

Alicia blinked rapidly. "Alicia Brurrer," she replied airiy. This time Camille snorted at Alicia's behavior.

"Way ta go Davey," the harsh boy that had cushioned Camille's fall spoke. "Now I suppose you'se is gonna tell them all our names."

Davey didn't hear him, but he did indeed give the girls, or rather, Alicia, the names of the rest of the boys. "Snitch, Blink, Mush, Racetrack, and my rude friend, Spot Conlon." Each boy tipped their aged hats.

"But I'm sure you'se've heardda me," Spot Conlon bragged.

"Er, no," Camille admitted.

"What?!" Spot's egotistical smirk very quickly turned back into his unhappy face from before. "Da most respected newsie in Brooklyn? In all a New York?"

"We're in Wisconsin, dude," Camille clarified, a smirk of her own forming at the haughty, self-proclaimed newsie's face.

Blink chuckled and whispered to Mush, "Dude!"

Spot's face burned, and Davey was finally broke from his infatuated gaze. "Oh, no," he corrected. "We're in New York; Manhattan to be exact."

Alicia giggled. "You're so silly Davey. We're in Houlton, Wisconsin," she told him.

Snitch whimpered. Wisconsin? Besides David, none of the boys could even point Wisconsin out on a map, let alone know how they got there.

"Oh, yeah?" Race challenged. "If we'se in Wisconny, den where's all da cows?"

"Er…we don't have any cows," Camille answered, at a loss for words.

Racetrack smiled triumphantly. "Well cow farmin' is the only careah in Wisconsin as fars as I'se heard, so we'se not in Wisconsin," he deduced.

Alicia smiled, "That's not true! My parents are plastic surgeons."

She received six blank stares of utter confusion.

"What?" she asked warily.

"What's a plastic surgeon?" Mush inquired, him and Blink leaning closer.

"How do you not know what a plastic surgeon is? All the hottest celebrities use them," Alicia exclaimed.

Her statement was once again received with stares of confusion.

Camille narrowed her eyes in suspicion, all thoughts of them being Schleffel's henchmen gone. She took in their blank faces and dated clothing. A wild, crazy, and impossible though popped into her mind. No…it couldn't be…could it? Slowly, she gathered her wits. "What year would you say it is?"

Spot threw her a dirty look that she reciprocated, much to his surprise. He wasn't used to anyone treating him as less than their superior. "It's 1899 you dolt," he spat.

Alicia burst into laughter again, apparently unable to come to the same conclusion that Camille had come to. "You guys are funny! First the cow thing and now this! Wow!" She chuckled quietly to herself.

Camille looked over the group of boys, feeling a pang of pity for them, then she quickly bottled up that weak feeling. "Actually, it's 2009," she said, staring Spot straight into his cool, calculating eyes.

Racetrack grunted. "Eh Alicia, your friend Chip needs to be put away," he smirked.

Camille glared at Race. "Why are you calling me 'Chip'?" she asked, a tint of annoyance leaking into her tone.

"Cuz you'se hasn't informed us of yoah real name yet, Chip," Spot looked at her suspiciously, adding the name 'Chip' to the end just to agitate her.

Camille scowled. "Camille Pintch."

"Well, Camille," Spot took the lead. "I like Chip better." He drummed his fingers on the gold tipped cane he had through his suspenders. "Now kindly explain yoah reasonin' behind why you think it's 2009."

"Because it is!" Camille yelled.

Alicia's face was scrunched up. "Wait, you really didn't know it was 2009?"

Davey clasped her hand again, "Are you saying that it actually _is_?"

Alicia blinked, lost. "Yes?"

Racetrack looked over at Spot. "She says its 2009. I don' think she's the brightest goil neither. Spot…what's goin' on?"

Spot had been standing, drumming his fingers, and thinking about the past half hour. A creeptastic old lady that matched Alicia's description of Madame Schleffel perfectly had been following them in Manhattan, mumbling about how 'They're waiting'. Mush had spotted a strange piece of cargo that was glowing. The box came to his mind then, and he recalled the post mark. WISC. Wisconsin, maybe? Blink had touched the blasted thing, and, with a flash, they had appeared here, in a field of green containing two stunning, yet frustrating, girls claiming to be living in 2009. it wasn't even the same time of day it had been in Manhattan.

"So," Spot began, looking at Camille, the one who appeared to possess the brains. "You're telling me, that we'se not only in Wisconsin, but that we'se also in a different yeah as well?"

Camille nodded. "Pretty much."

"How we gonna get back?!" Snitch piped up from behind Blink.

Spot's mind was churning once again. If that Madame Schleffel lady was responsible for them coming here, then she must also be the key to getting them back. "We need to see that Schleffel lady," Spot requested.

"No way in hell," Camille refused.

Spot was about to respond, but Alicia interjected with, "Besides, the fair ended today. They've probably already moved on."

"So what're we'se supposed ta do?" Blink asked, a tremor entering his voice.

"We'll have ta sell papes until we'se figure this out," Spot told him.

Camille snickered. "Good luck with that, considering newsies don't exist anymore."

Spot looked at her skeptically. "What does that mean?"

"It means the news is delivered by a mailman every morning along with the rest of the mail," Camille answered as if talking to a child, just to piss Spot off.

"Where're we gonna stay if there's no lodging houses?" Mush thought out loud.

A light bulb turned on in Alicia's head. "You can stay in the bunkhouse!"

Camille and the boys looked upon her in surprise. "What?" Camille glared.

Alicia looked at her with large eyes. "Why not? There's room for them all," she rationalized. "Besides," she added. "They're just so darn cute." Alicia patted Davey on the head, smiling at him.

Camille looked around. Blink and Mush were smiling pleadingly, Snitch wouldn't look her in the eyes, Davey was completely absorbed with Alicia, Racetrack was grinning, and Spot seemed to be smirking, triumphant over the fact that Alicia had called the group cute.

"C'mon, Chip, whaddaya say?" Racetrack prodded genially.

Camille huffed. "Fine, you can stay in the bunkhouse." The boys sighed in relief, except for Spot, whose ego appeared to inflate as he grinned. "Except you," Camille snapped at him.

For one split second, a spark of surprise shone in Spot's eyes, but he soon recovered his nonchalant smirk and shrugged. "Fine by me," he replied smoothly. "I like lookin' up at da stahs at night."

Camille scowled. "Whatever," she mumbled to herself. She tugged on Arrow's reigns, turning him in the opposite direction. "This way," she said, trudging through the high grasses in the direction of the ranch.

* * *

So that's that. Please review and give me suggestions! Comments are greatly appreciated! I've started on the third chapter already, so hopefully that one will be up within the next week. :D


	3. In Which Snitch Gets Spiked

**Author's Note:** Woo! Third chapter! In which an explosion, flirting, and an explosion take place! So read!!

**Disclaimer:** Do I appear to own Newsies?

* * *

After securing the horses to an old and partially broken hitch post, Camille banged the door open to the bunkhouse, a frown upon her face. Alicia skipped in, Davey in tow. "Choose a bunk," Camille said flatly, standing aside for the rest of the boys to enter. Blink and Mush tipped their hats as they prodded Snitch, who was attempting to become invisible, towards one of the bunk beds in the room. Race winked, grinning charmingly as he walked by, looking about curiously. And Spot, who's ego had been enlarged once Alicia had convinced Camille to allow him into the actual building instead of force him to stare at the stars, sauntered by. He decided that if he had to be stuck here, he may as well have a little fun; so, to see if he could get a rise out of her, he ever so slightly brushed up against Camille as he passed her.

Spot heard her breath catch in surprise. He smirked as a flush crept onto Camille's cheeks. She quickly looked away and deepened her frown. '_Stupid, egotistical boy with adorable red suspenders!'_ popped into her head. Her eyes widened. Had she really just used the word 'adorable' in a sentence describing Spot? No, no…she had used it to describe his suspenders…yeah, that was it. She nodded in affirmation to herself.

Looking up, she watched as Spot wandered through the small, cozy house, deciding on what bunk was "worthy" of him. He decided on the top corner bunk; climbing up and plopping down, he propped his hands behind his head, looking deliberately at Camille, who he knew had been staring after him, because every girl he met did that, he rationalized.

Camille quickly looked away, glaring at the wood flooring. _'Oh, yes,'_ Spot smirked, _'This would definitely be fun.'_

* * *

After making sure the boys were as settled as they possibly could be and warning them not to leave the bunkhouse with the threat of Alicia coming after them with a blow dryer, which they thought was some sort of torturous tool, the two girls headed inside, despite the pleading of Davey, who pretended to be in shock and claimed he needed "loving care". Racetrack's hand to the back of Davey's head seemed to cure his "shock", as the boy slumped back onto his bunk, a small pout creasing his face.

Now Camille and Alicia were sitting at the kitchen table in silence, unable to utter a word about what had happened.

"What are we going to do about them?" Camille finally asked. "They can't stay here forever, my folks are back next month, and they're not going to believe that six guys just fell out of the sky." She banged her head on the table. "Ow. Bad idea," she mumbled to herself.

"Well," Alicia spoke. "I think we should bring them to school."

Camille raised her head to see if her friend had gone mad. Alicia looked perfectly sane, though, sitting across the table from her with a serious look. "Are you on crack?" Camille inquired sarcastically.

"Ha. Ha." Alicia faked. "I'm just saying, we could keep an eye on them then. You don't want them here all day by themselves do you?"

For once Alicia had made an intelligent point. The boys most likely wouldn't obey the rule of staying in the bunkhouse all day, torturous blow dryer or not, and God only knew what they'd get into during their exploration of the ranch. As if to emphasize this worry, a loud **boom** came from the direction of the bunkhouse.

Camille and Alicia jumped up from their seats, running out the door. "We forgot to tell them not to try to light the stove, didn't we?" Alicia asked innocently.

Wrenching the door open they came upon a rather comical scene. Spot was sitting up right in his bunk, looking completely shocked, flecks of ash peppering his face. Snitch was cowering under the blankets of the bunk he had apparently chosen, peeping just over the top. Davey had his hands on his head in a manner of distress, mouth pressed into a thin line.

The other three were still crowded around the old, dangerous stove, frozen where they were. Racetrack's jaw hung slack and he blinked every now and then. Blink's mouth was shaped like an 'O' and he was trying to shake ash out of his hair. Mush, who must have been closest at the point of explosion, was coughing, and there was the faint smell of burning hair lingering about him.

Camille turned to Alicia. "I guess we better get them registered."

* * *

Figuring out the seating arrangement for the trip to the local high school proved more difficult than explaining to the boys how the vehicles that were to take them there worked. Spot and Racetrack, after coming to the conclusion that "riding shotgun" was something important, declared that those were the seats they would be occupying. Since the girls were taking both Alicia's car and Camille's truck, this didn't appear to be a problem, until Davey exclaimed that he wanted to be by Alicia's side.

Eventually, the seating was chosen, with Spot in the passenger seat of Alicia's car, with Davey and Snitch in the back seat. Racetrack would be in the front seat of the truck, with Blink and Mush in the back.

This is where the problem of capacity came in. Camille's truck was designed to seat five to six people, however, four of those six apparently were meant to be Oompa Loompa sized. Mush and Blink couldn't get their tall frames to fit in the backseat, so a few switches were in order.

The end result was Mush and Blink in the back of Alicia's car. Davey sat, perfectly content, in the passenger seat. Camille ended up with a bashful Snitch and an upset Racetrack squished into the truck's backseat, while Spot smugly reclined in the front seat, causing Camille great discomfort.

"Discriminatin' against da vertically challenged," Race was growling.

"Stop ya whinin'," Spot demanded, quieting Racetrack for a few minutes.

Camille was leaning against her truck, waiting for Alicia to finish explaining to Blink how a seat belt worked. He just wasn't getting the hang of it. After about ten minutes, Alicia jogged over to Camille, leaning against the purple truck as well, smiling. "Meet me at Johanson's," Alicia instructed.

Camille looked at Alicia. "Johanson's?" Johanson's was a clothing store in town where everyone shopped. It always had an infinite supply of jeans, screen-tees, and knock-off brands. "Why?"

Alicia rolled her eyes. "We can't exactly have them enrolled at school wearing what they're wearing! Plus, I just can't pass up the opportunity to shop!" She grinned.

"Oh, right," Camille blushed at her stupid question. "They are a bit dated…"

"Not to mention completely out of style," Alicia added, opening her car door. "And no worries," she smiled, whipping out a credit card. "The plastic surgeons shall pull through for us."

Camille half-smiled. "You and your bottomless money pit," she tutted, a little jealous of her wealthy friend, then climbed into her rusty purple truck and turned the key in the ignition.

* * *

Camille had expected the boys to be a little more mature. But the bra section at Johanson's was enough to set the group of boys off on a rather vulgar joking spree. Mush and Blink were wrestling Snitch into a brassiere, and Racetrack and Spot were going about, acting as if the bras were full, touching them inappropriately. Davey didn't even glance at the women's section, so into Alicia as he was.

There was a whoop of triumph as Mush and Blink had managed to attach the garment on Snitch correctly. Snitch looked on the verge of embarrassed tears and his face was a bright crimson. He was trying to maneuver his way out of the blasted piece of clothing, but Mush and Blink simply pushed it back into place.

Alicia, during this whole episode, was seriously checking out a few bras for herself to wear, even enlisting the help of a suave Racetrack to decide which ones he thought were the best. Spot was continuing to flirt with imaginary women with multiple breasts, it appeared, fondling the delicate material in an almost loving fashion. Then again, it was Spot Conlon, so the love was most likely lust.

Camille pulled her fingers through her hair, counting to ten and taking deep breaths, wondering how much more of this she could stand. "Okay!" she quietly yelled out. "Let's head over to the men's section and get your clothes." She pointed away from their current place of residence. The boys looked at her, shame written across Blink, Mush, and Snitch's faces at being scolded. Spot bid farewell to his "lady", as he had addressed the wrack of undergarments, and strutted in what he believed to be the correct way. Racetrack and Alicia were still conversing about which bra would enhance her womanly figure. "Alicia!"

"Hmm?" She twirled around to see Camille, who jerked her head in the direction of the men's section. "Oh, right!" she exclaimed. "Come boys, time to shop!" She clapped her hands together and marched determinedly.

As they headed off, Camille glanced over at Blink, Mush, and Snitch. Snitch was now tangled in the straps of the bra, and Blink and Mush were trying in vain to free him. "I think he might be stuck," Blink grunted, pulling harder.

Camille shook her head, "God help me," then walked over to help them.

* * *

The boys were decked out in what Alicia had deemed as acceptable. Davey, Mush and Racetrack were dressed in preppie attire: button-up shirts, torn jeans, and bright white tennis shoes of varying brands. Alicia had made sure that none of them buttoned their shirts all the way, and, after viewing the wonders that were Mush's abs, made sure to get him a very form-fitting shirt, just so she could oggle him. This had made Davey slightly indignant, so in an attempt to impress Alicia, he had puffed up his chest, looking very much like a scrawny rooster trying to be tough.

Spot, Blink, and Snitch were all wearing skater-punk attire, complete with screened tees, jeans, and floppy skater shoes. The girls had even managed to spike Snitch's hair with some styling gel, adding to his cute awkwardness.

Ms. Riviera looked upon the lot with wide eyes. "And where are your parents?" she asked of the boys.

"They're foreign exchange students," Alicia explained with a knowledgeable look on her face.

Camille stepped forward, forcing a dry laugh. "What she means to say," Camille clarified, "Is that they're transfer students from New York, wanting to get a bit of the country experience in Wisconsin. They're staying with my family."

Riviera nodded slowly. "Uh-huh," she hummed, looking down at the paper that the girls had handed her, complete with fake names for the boys, who had absolutely refused to give their true first names. "And your names are David—" she looked at Davey who positively beamed at the idea of going to this school-of-the-future, "Cornelius—" Alicia nudged Racetrack with her elbow, who in turn nodded at the principal, not yet used to the fake name Alicia had created for him, "Dorian—" Snitch let out a small 'yelp'ing noise, "Macalister—" Mush grinned, "Bozley—" Blink blinked, then, remembering that was him, nodded his head vigorously, "and Seamus?" Spot smirked and lifted his chin. "Well," the principal continued, "those are certainly some interesting names…"

Alicia beamed at her ingenious gift, as she referred to her name giving talent. "Well, New Yorkers are interesting people," she replied.

Riviera glanced at the girls. "I suppose we'll do our best to fit them into classes with at least one of you, so that they know at least one person, that generally makes transitions easier," the woman informed them. "Just come to the counseling office tomorrow before school, and we'll have their schedules all set."

"Thank you very much, Ms. Riviera," Camille said with a fake sweetness to her voice, ushering the boys out of the office.

On the way back to the vehicles, Mush and Blink were examining the electric blue moped parked outside of the school doors. Davey followed behind Alicia pathetically, as usual. Both Racetrack and Spot were strutting cockily, smoking cigarettes; that wouldn't go over so well with the 'tobacco free' high school. And poor Snitch was caught off guard by the automatic sprinklers, causing him to jump away with a terrified screech.

Camille smacked her palm against her forehead. This was going to be impossible.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ta Da! So ends Chapter 3! What did you think? What did you like? What did you dislike? Tell me! I want to know! Thanks! :D


	4. A Porcelain Tub

**Author's Note:** Okay, so it took me a bit longer to write this chapter...however, it's longer than the other chapters, so enjoy! And also, I have a question at the bottom relating to the story! But for now, read on!

**Disclaimer:** Any character you recognize from the Newsies is not mine. Camille, Alicia, Gill, and any other character you've never seen before reading this story are mine. All mine!

* * *

It was about midnight when Camille crept quietly out of the house, breathing in the smell of dewy grass and horse manure. She loved it, loved everything about the ranch. She propped herself on the fence, sitting atop the highest board, and looked out at the grazing horses.

If her parents were unsuccessful on their current business trip, everything Camille had ever known would be ripped out from under her feet. How so much could ride so heavily on one horse sale astounded her.

There was the sound of footsteps behind her and she jumped, startled out of her thoughts. She spun around on the fence and watched a dark figure approach. Squinting her eyes to see better she whispered, "Mush?"

"Hey," came the reply, he stepped a little nearer. "Mind if I join ya?"

Camille shook her head. "Nah, make yourself comfortable."

The newsie climbed up next to her. "So whaddaya doin' out heah so late?"

"Nothing," Camille replied automatically.

"Nothin'? Ya must be doin' somethin'," Mush reasoned.

Camille gave in. "Well, I guess I was just thinking. About the ranch. We're not doing too well, and if my parents can't make the sale they're working on, we'll be short for out payments," she glanced up at Mush who was looking at her with a confused expression on his face. "It means we'll have to move and they'll turn all of this—" she gestured with a sweep of her hand "—into a bunch of houses," Camille explained, scowling at the possibility.

Mush nodded. "That's tough, but I think ya can get through it," Mush assured her. "Unless you'se ain't as tough as you'se usually act."

His comment caught her off guard, and she only just then realized how open she had been with Mush. She frowned, and pushed him off the fence. He tumbled to the ground with a laugh.

"I'm every bit as tough as I always am," she growled.

"A'right! I believe ya," Mush smiled, brushing grass from his shorts.

Camille looked away from him, embarrassed that she had been so revealing. She whipped her head back around when she felt him grab her hand and give it a gentle squeeze. "But don' worry," he said, looking her straight in the eye. "I'm sure you'se'll be fine." Then he released her hand, and with a nod, headed back to the bunkhouse, leaving Camille gaping after him.

"God damn," she swore, ruffling her hair with her fingers. Now Mush knew she wasn't as cold a person as she pretended to be. If he told the other boys, Camille was thinking of Spot in particular, then she'd have no way of keeping them in line, not to mention she'd have to put up with multiple sarcastic jabs from aforementioned newsie.

But Mush wouldn't say anything. She didn't know him extremely well, but he had a feeling of genuine sweetness about him. An honesty of sorts. All the good characteristics of a person bundled up in an attractive package. And my what a package! Camille closed her eyes, allowing her tired mind to think back to when Mush had stepped out of the dressing room earlier that day. Topless.

A low whinny from one of the horses brought her back. She shook her head, mentally slapping herself for thinking such a thing. Not that she didn't admire boys, she admired many guys at her school. Guys that belonged in this decade. And if it was one thing Camille knew all too well, it was that being attracted to some guy's body could lead to being attracted to his personality. She wasn't going to take the risk of becoming too attached to any of the newsboys. They all had to be sent back eventually, and then they'd be gone forever, never to be seen again. It just wouldn't do to fall head over heels for any of them.

The thin, boyish girl yawned, pulling her curly hair back into a pony tail and jumping down from the fence. She took one last look at the peaceful horses in the field, and walked inside, dreading school tomorrow.

Camille rose before the sun, pulling on her boots and an old tattered jacket to go take care of the daily chores involved with a horse farm. Once she had fed and groomed the horses acceptably, she reentered the house, looking forward to a hot bath. Usually on a school day, she'd take a quick shower to rid her of the stench of manure, but today she figured she deserved a little alone time, soaking in a large, boiling tub of bubbles.

She ran the water, adding different aloes and gels, taking in the wonderfully fruity scents wafting up from the tub. She shed her putrid clothing and entered the multitude of bubbles, closing her eyes to relax. She took a few deep breaths, then sunk below the water, seeing how long she could hold her breath.

Camille surfaced just in time to see Spot finish up peeing, zipping up his pants. She hadn't heard him come in while she was underwater, and she assumed Spot hadn't thought anything of the seemingly empty tub. Had he not turned and saw her at that moment, it was very likely that Camille would have retreated right back into her haven of bubbles, but Spot's shock held her eyes. It lasted for just a moment, and then the boy composed himself and smirked.

"Did ya like what ya saw?" he asked smoothly, reveling in the pink that appeared on the girl's cheeks.

Camille finally looked away. "If you must know, I didn't see anything," she lied. "So I can't answer your question."

"Really?" he inquired with a skeptic tone, smirk growing bigger.

Camille glared at him. "Do you mind? I am in the _tub_, get out!" she yelled, miffed at his casualness.

Spot lifted one eyebrow. "Whaddaya gonna do if I don't leave? Come aftah me?" His eyes twinkled with wicked delight.

"You're unbearable!" she replied, exasperated.

"Is that a compliment?" he teased.

"Get out!"

Spot raised his hands in surrender. "A'right, a'right." He made to leave, then turned to face her, a mischievious look upon his face. "And there's more a what ya 'didn't see' if ya evah wanna 'not see it' again." Camille chucked the nearest luffa directly at his face. He winked, closing the door as he left.

Camille plunged below the suds, screaming at the top of her lungs into the muffling water.

* * *

The girls used the same seating arrangements in the car pool to school as they had used before, causing Camille to twitch nervously.

"Chip, whatsa mattah?" Racetrack leaned over the back of the passenger seat to peer at her face. "You sick or somthin'?"

Camille shook her head, "Nah, thanks for asking though."

Spot chuckled darkly from beside her, and Racetrack, knowing Spot's tendency for womanizing, took his jovial attitude as something for more than it was. He jokingly punched the Brooklyn leader. "Foist night, too! Conlon conquers again!" he exclaimed.

Camille slammed on the breaks hard. "Excuse me?!"

Racetrack smiled, "Aw, don' worry bout it Chip, we don' think any less a ya for it. Hardly any goil resists Spot heah."

"For your information, Race, I haven't even _touched_ Spot," Camille spat, flames dancing in her eyes.

Race deflated, "Oh." He sunk back into his seat, quiet for the rest of the ride.

As instructed the day before, the eight of them reported to the counseling office to retrieve the boy's schedules. After careful examination, the girls determined that each boy, excluding Snitch, who somehow didn't make it into any of the girls' classes, were in a majority of their hours. Camille and Spot had an identical schedule, much to her chagrin. Spot only took this as a sign to get on Camille's nerves even more. Mush and Blink were also in quite a few of her classes, and Racetrack was in one. Davey had made it into a couple of Alicia's classes, but she was mostly with Race, a few of Mush and Blink hours popping up. Snitch was shaking at the prospect of having to endure an entire day alone, until a rather small girl with large glasses and lips that resembled a fish ran up to the group.

"Who are these people?" asked the girl with a nasally voice, as if the people she had asked about weren't event there.

"Hey, Gill," Camille nodded. "These are, uh, the transfers from New York. Meet Racetrack, Mush, Blink, Davey, and Snitch." Alicia elbowed her in the ribs. "Oh yes, and Seamus."

Spot was unfazed, stepping towards the pasty-skinned homely girl, he clasped her hand in his and announced, "You'se can call me Spot. Gill, was it?"

Gill's stubby eyelashes fluttered. "Why yes, yes it was."

Camille rolled her eyes, snatching Snitch's schedule from his quivering hands. "Hey, Gill, you got any of these classes?"

Gill pushed the glasses up her dainty little nose, "I'm in all but the weight lifting one."

"Weight lifting?" Snitch squeaked.

"Hey, how come I'se ain't in weight liftin'?" Spot grumbled.

"Shut up," Camille growled.

"Maybe they didn't think you needed to work on your body," Alicia offered as an excuse. Gill nodded her agreement.

"For heaven's sake," Camille muttered. How could _everyone_ like such an egotistical guy? "Okay, so Gill, do you think you can help Snitch through the day? He, uh, really needs it." She glanced over at the wheezing boy.

"Of course I shall," Gill vowed, stepping nearer Snitch and attaching her hand to his in a crippling manner. "Why is he wearing an eye patch?"

"What?" Camille asked, Snitch wasn't wearing an eye patch…

"That boy," Gill pointed at Blink, who was standing right next to her, staring at her in disbelief. "What's with the eye patch?"

"Oh," Camille stuttered. "He, uh, I…well." She looked to Blink for help.

"I use it ta help with business," Blink smiled, apparently proud of his genius.

"Business? What business are you in that your appearance matters? Oh, dear, are you a male prostitute?" Gill asked, wide eyed.

Blink's mouth dropped open, "No! I'se a newsie!"

Gill shrugged, "If that's what you call yourselves these days."

Blink opened and closed his mouth, unable to formulate something to say back to the odd girl beside him, who would not let go of Snitch.

Davey had been staring wistfully at Alicia all morning, Camille noticed this and motioned for Race to come over to her. "You think you could tell Davey to back off a bit?" she whispered. "He's acting like a creeper."

"Like a wha'?" Race looked confused.

"Never mind," Camille brushed his question off. "Just tell him not to be so obvious."

He saluted. "Race, at ya soivice," and proceeded to hit Davey upside the head, muttering Camille's message. It was clear that Racetrack had asked for the definition of 'creeper' as well, because they both looked confused and Davey's mouth formed the words 'I don't know'.

It was at that moment that the first bell rung, sending students off to their first period. Gill had dragged Snitch halfway down the hall, chattering away about some new physics equation she had discovered while breeding toads. Camille really didn't know how she had ended up friends with such a unique person.

"This way Blink," she said, remembering they shared first hour. Spot shoved himself between Blink and Camille so that he was in the middle.

"What's ah foist class, Chip?" he asked.

"History. And _don't_ call me that."

"Ya don't get mad when the othah boys call ya that," Spot pointed out.

"I like them better," Camille came up with, winning a grin from Blink.

Spot smirked, "You'se say that now, just wait, it'll change."

Camille guffawed. "I highly doubt that." She pushed open the heavy wooden door of the classroom, holding it open for Blink, and then allowing the full weight to slam into Spot. She led them to the back of the room, where Ms. Jenness, the teacher, sat grading papers. "Ms. Jenness? These are the new transfer students, Bozley and Seamus."

"Oh, yes!" Ms. Jenness yelled, standing from her desk. "I'm so excited to talk to you boys! You see, our next chapter is about child labor throughout history, and the textbook goes into great detail about this strike in New York that went on in 1899. It's simply fascinating! I was hoping you two could tell us a bit about New York, to give us a better understanding of the rough conditions those poor, poor children had to work in."

Camille looked at her teacher curiously, "I'm sorry, Ms. Jenness, but did you say the strike took place in 1899?"

"Yes dear, the Newsboy strike. You know, Camille, those newsboys were quite dashing. I have a feeling that you absolutely would have been taken with some newsboy or another back in those days," Ms. Jenness was blabbing. She always was such a romantic, going on and on about how charming and wonderful men from the past were. "You're just so into history and reading and writing, I wonder, maybe you would have even been a newsie yourself!"

"I don't think so," Camille said, trying her best not to be too angered with the unknowing teacher. After all, Ms. Jenness didn't realize that standing right in front of her were two participants in the actual strike.

"I think ya could be a newsie," Blink piped up, in what seemed to be encouragement, as if Camille had only rejected the idea for fear that she would fail miserably at the job. Good ole Blink, trying to cheer up everyone.

"And as for that newsboy that ya'd absolutely be taken with," Spot joined in, "I'se think ya'd be best with a leadah, someone who's in charge, someone who can take care a ya. Hey, Miz Jenness, ya evah read anythin' bout the Brooklyn leadah that helped Manhattan out?"

Ms. Jenness's eyes flared to life. "As a matter of fact, I have! And you're right Seamus! I do believe he and Camille would have been a wondrous match!"

Spot smirked triumphantly, "I'se couldn't agree moah."

Camille brought her hand to her face. "I'm gonna go sit down," she informed the group, then slumped down in her assigned seat, banging her head repeatedly on the desktop.

* * *

Racetrack and Mush were walking in circles, searching for the first class that they were meant to be in. "Where the hell is 'Woods'?" Racetrack asked, beginning to get highly frustrated.

"What _is_ 'Woods'?" Mush asked, staring at the map of the school that Alicia had presented him with, which he was holding upside down.

Race shrugged. "Beats me."

A red-head popped out of the nearest room, "Excuse me, but are you guys lost?"

"Yeah, what class is that?" Mush asked, nodding at the door the girl stood behind.

"Writing for the Media," the girl smiled warmly.

Mush and Race looked at each other, not knowing what the class was about.

"And, uh, what's that?" Race asked, stepping closer.

"Oh, you know, writing for like, magazines and newspapers. I myself have been writing the whole year for the paper—"

"Ya been writing the whole yeah?" Race practically screamed, forgetting he was no longer in 1899. "Why, ya doity rotten scab!"

"What?" asked the girl, offended by Race's words.

"We gets all the workahs tagetha in a strike against the papes, and you'se is tellin' me that you'se was writin' for 'em the whole time?" he advanced towards the door, but Mush caught him in his grip.

"Whoa there Race, we'se not in a strike heah, that's not this time," Mush calmed the fuming Italian in his grasp.

Race shook his head, a little embarrassed, "Oh, yeah, I'se just forgot for a second." He shook Mush off of him.

Mush grinned apologetically at the startled red head. "Sorry, could ya tell us where 'Woods' would be?"

She nodded her head, almost afraid to say anything. "It's on the other side of the school," she whispered.

"Gee, thanks," Race replied, pissed off that they'd have to walk even more.

Mush nodded his thanks and took off after Racetrack.

The girl shook her head, "And they trust those two with nails and hammers?"

* * *

Snitch sat as far away from Gill as the lab table would permit. She wasn't like Camille or Alicia, who merely ignored him, which is what he wanted. No, Gill just talked and talked and talked, expecting him to talk and talk and talk as well.

Not only was Gill making him anxious, but he didn't understand anything the teacher was saying, and when he was brave enough to open his book, it all looked like gibberish.

"Dorian?" Ever since the teacher had introduced him as such, Gill had insisted on calling him that as well. "Dorian? Something tells me you haven't been listening to a word I've said about the majestic nature of the African dung beetle." Disappointment ran across her face.

"Er…" Snitch looked every which way, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze, wishing he was back on the streets of Manhattan.

* * *

"Can it even be considered math if there's more letters than numbers?" Alicia complained, doodling on her math assignment, pouting at the challenge of the problems.

Davey nodded enthusiastically. "Of course it can, besides, if you plug in this equation for x, and that equation for q, use this number for y, you end up with the answer."

Alicia sat dumbfounded, typing away at her calculator. "You did that all in your head."

"What else was I supposed to do?" Davey asked of her.

Alicia shoved the calculator into his face, wiggling it around, "This! This!"

"I don't know what that is…"

"Wow, you're smart."

* * *

As Camille, Blink, and Spot exited the History room, in which Blink and Spot had given a rather exquisite presentation on New York (and having to be saved a few times by Camille in the process), she heard the names 'Camille Pintch' and 'Seamus Conlon' being called over the intercom. For a second the thought of Spot's schedule being changed brought joy to her troubled thoughts, but then again, why would they call her down to the office as well?

"Spot!" she yelled over the crowded hallway's noise, "We have to go to the office."

He nodded, following her lead. They entered the office, giving their names to the wiry receptionist. The gaunt woman led them down a narrow hall, opening a door near the end.

Camille took a step back, bumping into Spot, who grabbed her arms to steady her, then, looking over the girl's shoulder, he saw what had caused her retreat.

Sitting in one of the waiting chairs, smiling broadly up at them with yellowing teeth, was Madame Schleffel.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yay! So concludes chapter four! What did you think? (and no, that is not the question I refered to at the top!) Now, drumroll, THE QUESTION: Who do you think the girls should end up in a relationship with, or if they should even be in one at all? Any thoughts or ideas or suggestions would be awesome, because nothing is set in stone with this story, and I'm just wondering who you would like to see them with, or without, ha ha

Also, this is where I beg for reviews, so if that didn't come across in the whole "answer the question" schpeel...here's my plea for reviews: REVIEW!

Thanks!

--Corky


	5. It's Da Bulls!

**Author's Note: **Yay! Another chapter! Thanks so much to Smiley94, CES5410, and Mids-all-the-way, your reviews make my day! I really appreciate them :D I hope you like this chapter!

**Disclaimer:** Is this really necessary? If I owned Newsies, I wouldn't be writing _fan_fiction, now would I? I'd be legitly writing it's sequel or something!

* * *

Camille stared at the woman seated before her, shaking slightly. How had Madame Schleffel tracked her down? How had she convinced the administration to call them down to the office? And why was there a cop standing in the corner of the room?

Ms. Riviera was seated behind a large mahogany desk, her hands folded neatly on a manila folder that was lying before her, not yet opened. "Ms. Pintch, Mr. Conlon, if you would please sit down." She gestured to two seats directly opposite the desk. Spot nudged Camille when she didn't move.

Camille robotically took the seat that Ms. Riviera had signaled to, and Spot plopped down in the chair next to her, scanning the room and formulating a plan. Poor Camille, she probably had never even been yelled at before in her life. He smirked, _Well, there's a foist time fa everythin'._

"Ms. Riviera," Camille pleaded. Spot rolled his eyes, the girl had to learn to just roll with the punches and not try to weasel out of things, it was much easier to go along and then use brunt force later to escape, at least that's what he had learned in Brooklyn. "What—"

Riviera held up a hand, stopping the girl. "Don't act like you don't know why you're here Pintch." Her voice had become harsh, and Camille knew what that meant. She had heard it once before, and that was when Camille vowed never to hear it again, ever. She knew it meant trouble, and not just trouble that landed a student in detention either. This was Ms. Riviera's 'you've-done-something-illegal-and-you-are-going-to-pay' voice.

But Camille hadn't done anything _near_ that level of behavior for over half a year, contrary to what Spot was thinking at the moment. No, this time she had been framed. She looked over at the still grinning Madame Schleffel. "You!" Camille lurched out of her chair, but Spot quickly stood and stepped in front of her, grabbing her arms painfully hard.

"Sit. Down." He growled under his breath, a storm brewing in his eyes. The authority in his voice startled Camille and she found herself doing as he said.

Madame Schleffel shook her head. "You see that violence? Exactly like when those two stole my car." She tutted as Camille's jaw dropped to the floor. "I just can't imagine how such darling children could hit an old woman," Schleffel dabbed dramatically at her eyes with a dirty handkerchief.

"Now hold on just a minute," Spot yelled. "We ain't done nothin' ta this broad, we'se don' even know who she is!"

Camille sat in silent shock, then turned her head to face Ms. Riviera and begin protesting, but the principal cut her off. She was flipping through the manila folder, which held Camille's permanent record. "Ms. Pintch, going off of your previous run-ins with the law, and the fact that we have an eye-witness, I'm going to have to turn you over to the authorities. You're both eighteen, so we don't have to bring your parents into the matter, I'm sure you'll get your one phone call later," Riviera informed them.

"Eye witness? Who's da eye witness?" Spot asked suspiciously.

Riviera nodded to the forgotten police officer who had been standing silently to the side. "Officer Briggs himself."

"You'se is gonna believe da bull?" Spot was enraged. This future world was driving him nuts.

"I beg your pardon?" Riviera looked confused at Spot's term for the man.

The officer stepped forward. "If you don't mind Ms. Riviera, but I have other business to attend to today as well, so if I could just take them into custody now…"

"Oh, yes," Riviera began shuffling papers. "I thought you had learned from your previous offense Camille," she shook her head in disappointment. "You showed so much academic promise."

Spot eyed Camille, whose lips were pressed into a thin line. Previous offense? Then Ms. Riviera's words from earlier caught up to him. Riviera had referred to some past run-ins with the law. What law could Camille have possibly broken before? She didn't seem like the kind of person brave enough to break a law, she was usually so serious and cautious.

Briggs saw Spot gazing calculatingly at Camille and took it for something else. "Your girlfriend didn't tell you that she was a felon, huh?" he chuckled, removing a pair of handcuffs from his belt.

"Hey, she ain't me goil," Spot held up his hands, warding off the assumption.

Briggs grabbed Camille's arm and pulled her out of the chair. "Hey!" Camille yelled. The officer cuffed her, then moved for Spot.

"Whoa!" this time he held his hands up defensively. "I don' think so, officah." This is where Spot's brunt force theory came into play.

"You don't get a choice," Briggs smirked, grabbing for Spot, who resisted.

Camille shook her head. "Spot, don't. You'll make it worse."

The look in her eyes caught him off guard long enough for Briggs to get the metal bracelets around Spot's wrists. It was as if all the life and fight had been removed from Camille. He didn't like it, she looked like a caged animal, and he couldn't understand how she could just stop fighting so easily. He'd show her a thing or two later, when he had come up with a plan.

The two were led out to a black and white van waiting just outside the front doors. It was passing time, and students were gathered around to watch the delinquents being escorted out. Camille caught sight of Mush, who looked ready to charge out of the crowd to help his friends, but she shook her head in warning and he backed down, pain in his eyes as he watched them walk farther away. Davey stood next to him, worry plain on his face as he and Mush exchanged glances. Mush whispered something to Davey, who then took off running. Mush nodded back at Camille, a small inkling of hope in his look.

Turning back in the direction of the van, she noticed something. The license plates. They were normal. They weren't police plates. "This isn't a cop car," she said, her voice squeaking as panic quickly draped over her. Madame Schleffel, who was walking stoutly in front of her, heard this and tipped Briggs off, who hurried the pace. "NO!" Camille yelled, but Briggs simply turned around and picked her off the ground. She struggled, kicking out. "Mush!"

Why she called his name was unclear to her. There were plenty of people she knew better than him that were watching in curiosity, and she didn't want to get Mush into trouble either, but somehow the name had escaped from her lips. Something inside Mush clicked when he heard her plea for help and he pushed forward. Spot began resisting as well, crouching into a hostile position, but in the end, the three found themselves shoved in the back of the fake police vehicle.

Camille kicked violently at the walls. She was screaming, trying to get Briggs and Schleffel's attention. They were riding in the front seat, a metal door blocking them from the three in the back. "Don't you know they'll check the tapes when we don't show up? They'll see this isn't an actual emergency vehicle! They'll call the _real_ cops!"

Mush spoke soothingly. "Camille, calm down, I sent Davey ta tell Alicia what was happenin'."

"We're being kid-napped! You couldn't possibly have known that when you told him to run for Alicia! We're handcuffed in the back of a fucking van!" She yelled, kicking in frustration, the clang from the metal ringing loudly through their ears.

"Like you'se've nevah been in a similah situation," Spot spat.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Camille hissed.

"You tell me, previous offendah," Spot glared.

Camille was angered. "Oh, as if you've never broken a law, Mister High and Mighty!"

"Seems ta me dat in these times breakin' a law is fo' much woise things than fa what us kids get nabbed fa in New Yawk," Spot hypothesized.

Camille glared at him. "You don't know anything about how things work these days."

"I know enough ta know that breakin' a law ain't somthin' people go around doin' everyday," Spot reasoned. They sat quietly, fighting each other with their silence.

"Grand theft auto," Camille finally whispered, looking away from Spot's intense gaze. "Not that you know what that means. Plus a horse and trailer theft. Happy?"

Spot just looked at her evenly, but Mush was confused. "Wait, you'se've broken a law?" he asked, not sure how to feel.

"Yeah, I had to, not that it did any good. Now drop it." Camille turned away from the boys, kicking the side of the van half-heartedly. Mush and Spot met each other's eyes, wondering why Camille had needed to do what she had done.

* * *

Unknowing that three of their friends were in need of help, Blink, Alicia, and Racetrack walked outside as a shortcut to their next class. A large police van past by and Race jumped behind Alicia. "Blink, it's da bulls!" he exclaimed.

Alicia laughed. "Relax dude! They probably just caught some people doing a drug deal. It's a regular occurrence." She walked on as the boys tried to comprehend what she had said. It was so much easier when Camille was around to translate for them. Alicia had a tendency to forget they were from a different time period, and the boys hated asking for explanations from the wealthy, bubbly, and sometimes dim girl that strode in front of them.

They walked into the art classroom together, Alicia bringing them over to a table in the center of the room. "This is where Camille and I sit," she said, dropping her backpack. "It's a pretty small class, so you dudes'll probably be able to sit by us." The trio sat and waited for Camille and Spot to arrive, but, when, ten minutes after the bell had rang, Alicia asked where they were, the answer received was anything but expected.

Mr. Lund twitched, "Oh, them, they've, uh, been removed permanently, um, from this class."

Alicia buried her face in her hands. "Not again," she mumbled.

"Whaddaya mean 'not again'?" Racetrack piped up. Blink looked at her expectantly.

"Well…I have a feeling this has something to do with the cop car we saw whizzing by us on our way here," Alicia thought dreadfully. "This isn't the first time Camille's been in trouble with the law, and this same thing happened before, the whole 'removed permanently' thing. You see, about a half a year ago, Camille's parental units sold a few horses to this highly loserish and weird dude, you know the type, monkey suit and all. She hadn't liked him the moment she saw him. So, she followed the guy one day and discovered he worked at the racetrack, but he was one of those slimeballs that worked the horses to death and just continued to buy more without a second thought. He had no mercy." Race grimaced, he knew the type from selling around the track so much in New York. "So, she hot-wired the guy's Mercedes-Benz and backed it into a swamp that was on the guy's property." Alicia chuckled. "I saw pictures, funniest thing ever, she even got a few bottles of spray paint and graffitied the barn that he had for the poor horses he owned. _Then_ she jumped into a truck that was attached to this huge trailer full of new horses the dude had just bought, pedal to the metal, and booked it out of there. Drove until she was out of gas. The doofus didn't even notice any of this until Camille was caught and the cops showed up at his house to tell him what happened. Sadly, he was a big shot, with even bigger lawyers. Camille didn't stand a chance. Sent her to juvey for two months. She got out early on account of good behavior." Race and Blink sat hooked on the story. Although some of the details hadn't made sense, they had caught the gist of the story and were amazed at the tale that Alicia had spun for them, unbelieving that the calm and collected Camille had ever even thought of doing something so out of the ordinary.

"The only thing is," Alicia began again, "Camille's parents turned absolutely bitter, her joy rides are the reason behind the ranch's failure. Her parents are so far in debt because of what the lawyers squeezed out of them. Of course, her parents were never really that great to start with…but now she's in trouble again! I thought she knew better…I wonder what it is she did this time, I thought I was with her twenty-four-seven…." Alicia trailed off, thinking to herself about the facts that didn't add up. When had she not been with Camille? And if it was Camille that was in trouble, then why was Spot missing as well? Race and Blink where digesting the story, and they too began to wonder about why their newsie comrade was also gone, when Davey burst through the art room door, Gill and Snitch in tow.

"Alicia!" he cried. "Something's wrong! Mush and I were outside and we saw Spot and Camille being dragged away by this bull and really gross looking old lady! He sent me to get you, but I didn't know where you were! (Race snickered, "Hard ta believe" to Blink, who laughed.) I saw Gill and remembered she knew you and she knew where you were. But now I can't find Mush! I don't know what to do!"

Alicia scrunched up her face. "They were being dragged away by a bull?" The image of Spot and Camille tied to a bovine creature was an odd one.

Gill spoke up, "I do believe the term 'bull' can refer to 'police officer', 'cop', 'copper', 'po-po', and many other forms of authority enforcer."

"Oh!" Alicia exclaimed in realization. So she was correct in guessing that Camille had been connected to the van that had raced away from the school grounds. "But what are we going to do? We can't exactly go down to the police station and ask them to release Camille and Spot."

"The way Davey tells it, I don't believe it was a true vehicle of the law. He says that Camille was completely calm until she looked intensely at the van, after which she began screaming like a raving lunatic," Gill explained. "Apparently the supposed law officer had to pick her up and she started to flail about dramatically."

Alicia blinked. "Well now I _really_ don't know what to do, I just know we have to leave." She picked up her bag and walked determinedly to the door.

Mr. Lund held up a hand, "Wait, you can't—" But the two girls and the newsies were already gone. Mr. Lund hung his head. "Oh well," he muttered, and fell back asleep, like he was before the loud curly haired boy had interrupted the class with his hysterical screaming.

* * *

**Author's Note**: the end!...of chapter five! But hopefully it won't take too long for an update since it's Spring Break for me and that gives me lots of time to write write write!...and therefore you all should review review review! ;D he he, thanks for reading!


	6. Burning Rubber

**Author's Note: **So here's the 6th chappie! I'm not sure what to think exactly about this chapter, I can't decide whether or not I like it...but it's here none the less. So enjoy! and thanks for the reviews, as always!!

**Disclaimer:** Well, at the moment I have Mush and Spot locked away in the back of a van, but no, I don't own them :(

* * *

As the group made their way down the stairs, led by Alicia and Davey, Race overheard a snippet of conversation from a nearby group.

"…picked up the third guy, too. He was one of the ones I was telling you about earlier. You know, one of the Woods guys…"

Whipping around, Race noticed the red-headed girl that he had mistakenly called a scabber at the beginning of the school day. She was gossiping to a group of girls excitedly, using many hand gestures that were most likely for effect. "'Ey Red!" he yelled in the girl's direction.

The girl looked up, more out of curiosity as to who had yelled than in actual recognition of Race. When she saw Race pacing quickly towards her she broke out in a nervous sweat. It was one of those deranged boys that had somehow been allowed into a class that involved the use of power tools. "Y-yes?" she stammered, hoping he'd make it quick.

"Did I just heah ya say da bulls took a third kid?" Race asked, pointing at the doors.

The red-haired girl nodded. "Yeah, he tried to help the girl—Camille. It was the guy you were with this morning," she replied, backing away.

Race tipped an imaginary hat. "Thankya Red." He turned to catch up with the rest of the newsies. "'Ey, da bulls've got Mush too," he informed them.

"Well at least we know where he is now," Gill said. "Now let's speak with Ms. Riviera." She brought the group through the office doors and walked over to where the stringy secretary sat reading a fitness magazine. "We'd like to see Ms. Riviera, please."

The secretary looked up slowly from the article she had been reading on how to get your best butt. She reached a frail finger to a small intercom that was connected to Ms. Riviera's office. "Ms. Riviera, there's a few students here that want a word with you."

Alicia stepped forward. "Oh, we want more than one word," she assured the secretary, who looked at her dully before returning to her magazine.

Ms. Riviera appeared in the waiting room a minute later, her expression hardening when she saw who the students were. "You all need to go back to your classes right now," she said sternly.

Davey stood up, holding a hand out to stop the principal. "Please, Ms. Riviera, we have reason to believe that Spot, Camille, and Mush were released to someone who is not actually a legitimate authority figure," he hastily got out. Alicia stared up at him, half in awe, half because she didn't understand a few of the bigger words he had used.

Ms. Riviera shook her head. "I realize that you all were close friends with the three that were taken into custody, but you can't just go around accusing police officers of being frauds because your peers did something wrong."

"But if ya just check da…whadda they called? Tapes?" Blink said, trying to help the most he could. It distressed him greatly to know that Mush, his best friend, was being held captive somewhere. He had remembered Gill and Alicia talking about a device that recorded everything that went on, but was unsure as to what the girls had called it.

Once again Ms. Riviera shook her head. "It wouldn't do to watch the footage. The administration is quite sure—"

"But it wouldn't hurt," Davey fought. "If you're so sure, then there's nothing to lose. Us kids'll head back to our classes defeated. But if we're right, then the sooner we know for sure that Camille, Mush, and Spot have been kidnapped, the sooner we'll be able to get them back to safety."

Ms. Riviera crossed her arms. Her resolve was finally wearing down. "Alright. Fine. I will go watch the tapes myself!" And she stormed from the room in a slightly childish way.

"Look for the license plates," Gill spoke loudly, her voice echoing after the principal.

When Ms. Riviera returned, she was a ghastly shade. "Cecil, get the police chief on the phone. Now!" she demanded of the lackadaisical secretary.

Cecil nodded frantically and dialed away at the phone on her cluttered desk. "Yes, this is Houlton High School and we'd like to report a kidnapping…"

* * *

It was Tuesday afternoon when Scott Briggs asked tentatively, "Aunt Mary?" He looked over at a Madame Schleffel deep in thought.

She started at the unexpected voice. "Oh, yes? What?" she rasped.

"Look, I went along with all of this because, well, because you raised me and I've learned not to question what you do, since you're usually right…but, why was it necessary to kidnap these kids? Couldn't we have just approached them?" Scott questioned of his closest relative.

Schleffel sighed. "Scott, the first time I met that girl back there was at a county fair. Her friend had forced her into getting her fortune told. And you know what happened? I produced a real fortune. When I realized what had happened, I made the mistake of chasing after those girls, scaring them half to death. They never would have heard me out if I had just walked up to them," she told her nephew, shaking her head as she talked.

"But how did you find out what you said if you never caught up to them?"

"I got lucky," the old woman smiled. "Upon returning to my tent, the next person in line praised me for my enthusiastic talent, said he had heard the whole thing. So I milked it out of him."

Scott nodded in understanding. "But the boys?"

Madame Schleffel became contemplative. "Have you ever dreamed something that didn't feel like a dream? Well, next time, pay attention, it could be important. I had taken a nap before I set up my tent, and while sleeping I dreamt of a clear, starry night. I was wandering around an old town, stumbling on the cobble stone streets, _following_ the boys that are now in the back of this van, along with a few of their friends. I told them their fortune in the dream, and then walked away. The strange thing was…it wasn't this time and age…"

Scott laughed. "You're not suggesting time travel are you?"

"I did my research and that's what I'm going to explain later," Schleffel justified.

"Well how are we supposed to get them back to where they came from?" Scott asked, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "We can't exactly rent a Dolorian with a built in Flux Capacitor!"

Madame Schleffel chuckled. "Scott, calm down. It's not _that_ complicated. Everything will become much clearer when I can speak with the children, too."

Scott was about to reply when the sound of a siren reached his ears. Glancing in the side mirror he saw a police car, barreling down the road in their direction.

"Aunt Mary…!"

"I see him Scott, speed up, you're a crazy driver as it is, we'll lose him," she reassured her concerned nephew.

Putting his foot down hard on the gas, Scott sped up and took an unexpected right turn.

* * *

Camille and Mush, who had been sitting next to each other in the dark of the back of the van, found themselves thrown to the other side. "Ow," they each complained, including Spot, whom Camille had landed on.

"I know ya like this position," Spot smirked, referring to the fact that Camille was straddling him, "but now really ain't a good time fa me."

"You disgust me," Camille sneered, rolling off of him, just in time for all three to be pitched to the other side of the van again.

"What's goin' on?" Mush wondered aloud.

After sliding in another direction Camille answered, "I think we're being chased. You can smell the burning tires."

"But who's chasin' us?" Mush wanted to know as they were flung to the back of the van.

"Oof! Probably the real coppers," Camille explained.

Spot scoffed. "Like they'se any bettah."

"They are in today's day and age," Camille spat.

After about ten minutes of being jostled around, all three had headaches and Mush was starting to turn green.

"I feel like I'm on a never ending roller coaster," Camille grumbled, glancing at Mush who looked much worse off than her.

Spot continuously tried to get away from Mush, not wanting to be sprayed with whatever food the boy had digested before their kidnapping. "Don't even think about it Mushy," he warned.

Mush nodded, breathing deep, but all that filled his lungs was the smell of rubber, making him more nauseous. Right as Mush felt he couldn't take it anymore, the van lurched to a halt, and the three tumbled towards the front.

Camille sat up, a large and grateful smile plastered to her face. "The cops got 'em! We're safe! The cops—"

But it wasn't policemen standing outside the doors when they opened. Briggs and Madame Schleffel looked down upon them. "Hello dears," the woman grinned, showing her crooked and yellowing teeth.

* * *

Alicia squirmed impatiently in her seat. "This whole waiting part is extremely boring. You never see people waiting on 'Cops'," she complained.

Gill was sitting next to her in the police station's waiting room. "Would you watch it if it only showed people sitting around?" she asked.

Alicia thought about that. "Hmm, probably not…"

"Whaddaya think is happening ta them?" Snitch whispered hesitantly from his seat.

"Well, Dorian," Gill thought, stroking her chin and looking up to the ceiling. "Most kidnappings end up in death, but there is a chance that Camille will be sold off as a bride and that Spot and Mush will be forced into hard labor or male prostitution."

"That's cheery," Race snickered sarcastically. He was cranky because the police had confiscated his cigar when he was unable to produce ID verifying his age.

"But I don't think that's why they took them," Gill mused. "Because if they had done their research they would have found that Blink is already skilled in such an area."

"Wha?" Blink looked at her confused.

Gill shrugged. "You told me when I met you that that's why you wear the patch. In order to bring in more customers."

"As a newsie!" Blink yelled, throwing up his hands.

"I realize you prefer that term, but there's really no need to sugar coat it," Gill scolded him for his outburst.

Blink growled in frustration, but a police officer approached the group before he could make a retort. She held out her hand to be shaken. "Hi, I'm Jenny Overstreet, I've been in contact with the officers pursuing the case," she told them with a smile. "I just received word that although we were on their tail, we unfortunately seemed to have lost them. If you gave us a number to reach you by, you children can go home and we'll let you know if anything develops."

"What about Camille's parents?" Gill asked.

Officer Overstreet's smile drooped. "They've, uh, they've been notified…"

"When are they going to get back to town?" Alicia wondered.

Overstreet shook her head, "When they come home from their business trip. They figured there was nothing they could do that we weren't doing, and decided to stay where they are…"

"What a bunch a dirty rotten—" Blink covered Race's mouth before he was able to unleash a long stretch of profanity.

Overstreet's face became red with anger.

"You'se really gonna get it now, Race, ladies don't like that kinda talk," Blink hissed under his breath. But Overstreet's words shocked them.

"I completely agree with you, hun!" she burst. "You know what the father said over the phone? He said 'There better be press coverage on this so I get the monetary benefit'! Can you believe a father would even think that? It's just terrible." She shook her head again. "Oh dear! I shouldn't have told you kids all of that," she covered her mouth. "You all head home before I say anything else I shouldn't," she shooed them.

As they walked dejectedly through the parking lot, Davey looked over at Alicia. "Why are Camille's parents so…careless? So…awful?"

Alicia sighed. "They've always been kind of greedy money grubbers. So when Camille was younger and they discovered her talent in the horse ring, they entered her in competitions. See, if you do well in a horse competition, you win money, big bucks. The only reason for it though was so they could reap the benefits, ya know? They were in it for the money Camille raked in with her winnings. Too bad she was too smart for them." Alicia laughed. "When she found out what they were doing, she began purposely doing bad in shows, losing competitions and losing money. They stopped entering her after that. And then the whole thing with the race guy's car and barn and trailer, well, any relationship she had with her parents went down the tubes."

"Tragic," Gill added.

Blink's stomach growled at that moment, followed by Snitch's, who blushed. "I'm hungry, too," Alicia mumbled.

Gill suggested they go to Camille's house, since it was unoccupied at the moment. "We're all tired and we need rest after the harrowing day that we've had. Officer Overstreet will alert us to anything that happens," she reminded them.

There were nods of agreement all around as the newsies climbed into their assigned car seats, and the kids headed back to the failing ranch.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So once again, I repeat that I'm not sure what to think of this chapter. I find it a little dull, but that might be because I've read it so many times? I don't know, either way, I felt that parts of it were necessary to include in the story, so it had to be done.

And now you must review...because I said so :P ha ha, and because I have a very nice surprise for the next chapter tee hee!!


	7. Explanations and MakeOut Sessions

**Author's Note:** Chapter Seven! In which there is a surprise at the end for you people! yay!

**Disclaimer:** I still own nothing

* * *

The trio stayed frozen at the back of the van, wishing they could move further away from Briggs and Schleffel. What did they even want with them? If Madame Schleffel needed to know what she said so badly, Camille would gladly tell her, if only they were set free.

"Okay," Schleffel began speaking, "We want to make this as quick and easy as possible. So if you'll just go along with what we say, everything should go smoothly."

"We ain't doin' nothin' you'se tell us ta do," Spot retaliated. He was scowling worse than when Camille had fallen on him when they had first met. He had had enough of this Madame Schleffel and her little kidnapping scheme. It was irritating when he could be off doing something useful with his time, like figuring out how to get back to his boys in Brooklyn. The future was _not_ a place Spot planned to stay much longer.

Schleffel simply blinked at the boy's words. "If you'd like to get back to the time you belong you certainly will do what we say," she told him with a shake of her finger.

Spot stared at her in disbelief. It was as if the old broad had read his mind. He grumbled to himself and shifted his weight. Madame Schleffel looked at the reluctant high schoolers, placing her hands on her bodacious hips, she barked, "Come now! Get out of this van, I have some very important things to tell you and not much time to tell them. Out!"

Spot surprised the group when he was the first to move towards the doors. "I gotta get back ta me boys, they won't know what ta do without me," he explained, almost pleadingly, to Camille and Mush, who exchanged glances and followed suit.

"There's a good dear," Schleffel praised, "This way please!" And she led the group, Briggs trailing behind the captives, into a large abandoned barn. The roof was missing in places, allowing rays of sun to trickle through.

"This place is familiar," Camille whispered.

"It should be!" Madame Schleffel exclaimed, hearing the girl. "This is Oak Hollows, or what's left of it anyway."

"Oak Hollows?" Mush asked.

"The place of my first—and also my last—horse competition," Camille sighed nostalgically.

Spot raised an eyebrow, "Why're we heah?"

"Because no one uses this barn anymore; it's off the road a ways, no one will interrupt us," Madame Schleffel replied. "Now sit."

The three obeyed, plopping down on dusty, unused bales of straw and hay that had been left behind. They looked up at the decrepit woman with wide eyes, still unsure of her true intentions. She stood in front of them, stroking her chin, "Where to begin, where to begin," she mumbled. Briggs stood quietly off in a corner, just as he had done yesterday in the school's office.

"Ya ain't gonna hurt us, are ya?" Mush stuttered nervously.

Schleffel laughed, "Of course not! We're not here to hurt you; we're trying to help."

"And I suppose tying us up and leaving us in a forgotten barn is your idea of help?" Camille scoffed.

Schleffel crossed her arms, "If you would just let me think for a second where to begin, then I would explain the whole situation. Patience is a virtue."

"Not one that I possess," Camille grumbled.

Madame Schleffel ignored Camille's sarcasm. "I suppose I should begin with the moon," she mused.

"Da moon? What does any a this have ta do with da moon?" Spot asked irritated.

"Shush. All will become clear if you listen," Madame Schleffel assured. "Now, the moon. On Saturday evening in 1899, the moon was in the exact position it was in on Saturday afternoon here in 2009. The same degree, tilt, rotation, nearly identical, except for the phase it was in."

"So you're saying the _moon_ sent these newsies forward in time?" Camille laughed.

Schleffel glared at the girl with the eye that didn't wander until her laughter ceased. "Don't underestimate the power of the moon. Ancient cultures and religions focused on the moon for a reason you know, not just because of its beauty, but because of the magic it held."

"It's a rock floating in the sky," Camille pointed out skeptically.

"A celestial being that controls tides and weather, and, some believe, according to tales of folklore: time," Schleffel informed.

"Folklore is just a bunch of old stories," Camille argued.

"You have a better explanation as to how the two boys sitting next to you got here?" the fortune teller dared. When Camille simply looked away, Madame Schleffel continued. "Now, if the moon _is_ how you gentlemen arrived in this time, then we need to find another hour in which the moon will be where it was one-hundred-and-ten years ago."

"How's are we'se supposed ta know da moon's position?" Spot asked curiously.

Schleffel grinned her toothy grin. "Lucky for us, people have been keeping track of the moon for thousands of years, these records have given us the ability to see when the moon will be where it should be in order to get you boys back."

"And when's that?" Mush asked excitedly, he was getting homesick, and actually missed his daily routine of selling papers.

"This Friday night," Madame Schleffel told him.

Mush and Spot sat up straighter, eager to learn how they could get home.

"Wait," Camille interrupted. "That doesn't make sense. You said the moon would be exactly the same, but you said it would be in different phases."

"Correct," Schleffel complimented. "They're going to be opposite phases. Flipped. The same as how time has flipped."

Camille didn't feel quite satisfied with the answer, but could think of nothing else to say, so she quieted down to come up with another theory.

"So how do we'se get home?" Mush wanted to know earnestly.

"That's the simple part, you simply must repeat what you did to get here," Schleffel said.

"But there's no glowin' crates that say WISC on them around heah that I've seen," Spot complained.

"Maybe we just have ta find somethin' that glows!" Mush yelled.

"Something that has to do with New York," Camille whispered.

"What?" everyone asked, for they hadn't caught what she had said to herself.

Camille looked up. "If you guys got here by touching something that had to do with Wisconsin, then you probably have to touch something relating to New York," she reasoned.

"I would agree with that," said Briggs, who still remained in the corner.

Schleffel held up her hands to draw attention to herself again. "Now here is the important thing," she warned, her eyes growing wide. "If the boys are not sent back within the next few days, there could be a serious and disastrous rip in the time-space continuum, with severe consequences."

"No pressure or anything," Camille smirked sarcastically.

Once again, Camille's jab was ignored. "If you boys are permanently removed from 1899, it could effect the way our world turns out; time would rewrite itself around your disappearances, and no one knows whether it would be for better or for worse," Schleffel continued worriedly.

"But _why_ were they sent here?" Camille asked.

"There is a reason behind everything, Chip, we just have to search for it," Schleffel lectured.

"Why does everyone feel the need to call me Chip?" Camille yelled.

"It suits ya," Spot spoke, enjoying the irritation it caused the girl, "Chip, Chip…Chip, Chip…Chip!" He said in different tones.

"Shut up!"

Spot sat triumphantly grinning as Camille fumed next to him. Schleffel looked upon them disapprovingly. "Now, can't you two get along?"

"No!" Camille exclaimed at the same time that Spot said, "Nah." Mush chuckled at them.

"They've been like this since the beginnin'," he told Madame Schleffel.

The old woman shook her head as a grin slowly appeared. "Well Scott, I believe we've fulfilled our duty. Now, it's time for us to go."

"Wait! Aren't you going to give us a ride home?" Camille asked concerned.

Briggs was uncuffing them. "And run right to jail? I think not," he muttered.

"We just can't risk it, hun," Schleffel replied. "However, there's an old truck just outside the barn that I'm sure you can get started. Good luck with everything, we'll be watching."

Briggs and Schleffel headed out the door with Mush, Spot, and Camille on their heels. "Wait! You can't just leave us here!" Camille was yelling as the two jumped into their van.

Madame Schleffel smiled down at the girl. "You'll find a way. The trucks just over there," she waved vaguely. "Good-bye sweets!" And they were left in a cloud of dust as the van putted off.

"This is insane," Camille mumbled, turning to look for the truck that Madame Schleffel had referred to. She sent the boys in separate directions to search for the vehicle. It didn't take long before they heard Spot yelling from behind the barn.

"Good job," Camille praised. "You found a tractor. Spot, a truck is like the thing I drive." She looked away, then spied a large mass covered in tarp underneath a nearby willow tree. She walked over to it and pulled the gray tarp off to reveal a faded baby blue 1954 Chevy truck. "Oh, great, it's _really_ old." She checked to see if there were keys anywhere and found a pair tucked in the glove box. "Sweet!" she stuck one in the ignition, only to be let down when the truck rumbled then died. She popped the hood, climbing up to look at the engine. "Needs a bit of work…and some tightening there…" she was speaking to herself when she heard Spot and Mush come up behind her. She hopped down, leaning against the vehicle. "Well, I can probably get it running by tonight," she informed them with a sigh. She was tired and hungry from the kidnapping. The last thing she wanted to do was get greasy from a fifty-some old truck, but she didn't appear to have much of a choice.

"That don't seem like a very lady-like thing ta do," Spot snickered.

"Do I seem like a girly girl to you? No. While other girls were taking sewing and design classes, I was busy taking automotives classes, you know, car stuff," she gestured to the vehicle.

"Did ya evah take 'Woods'?" Mush asked.

"No, that's simple. What idiot can't pound a nail into a piece of wood? It's too easy," Camille said as she began to clang away at the '54 Chevy's engine.

Mush held up his swollen and purple pointer finger. "It _ain't_ easy!" he defended himself and Race's minor disabilities with lumber.

"Oh you poor thing. Ya need me to kiss it?" she spat venomously.

Mush was taken aback, "Why would ya do that?"

Spot laughed. "She wouldn't Mush. What girl would kiss ya when Spot Conlon's standin' heah as an option?"

Camille glared at Spot. She was sick of his cocky, I-am-god attitude. It was time he was made aware of the fact that he wasn't all he thought he was. She sauntered up to Mush, grabbed him by the shirt collar, and pulled his lips to hers. He made a noise of surprise as she wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer. Mush relented and snagged her around the waist so that they were flush against each other. Camille squeaked. She hadn't expected such compliance. Little did she know how many young women adored Mush back in his time.

Spot's jaw fell to the ground. What was happening? Spot was supposed to be the one getting the girl. He _always_ got the girl! Always. He was Spot Conlon for god's sake!

Camille pulled away from Mush, a light tint to her cheeks, and hurried back over to work on repairing the old truck. "This girl, apparently," she muttered when she passed Spot, leaving him speechless.

As he burned with anger, he vowed in the deep recesses of his mind that he _would_ get the girl. _Nothing_ would stop him. Not even a Mush crush.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well, did ya like my ending? :D tee hee! Now...if you press that nifty little button that allows you to comment, we'll be set! And we'll be that much closer to find out what happens between Camille and the boys! And of course Gill and Alicia...hmm, what could they possibly be up to? Review and you'll find out sooner! :D


	8. Sugar High

**Author's Note:** Well, here's chapter eight! Thanks for the reviews that I've got so far :D they make me happy!

**Disclaimer:** These only exist to remind those of us who are unlucky enough not to own newsies that we are deprived...

* * *

The smell of brownies wafted throughout the ranch house when Camille, Mush, and Spot finally arrived home Wednesday evening. They had drove halfway before Camille pulled over so that they could have some much needed sleep, and continued driving when the sun came up. "What the…" Camille thought as they walked through the door. Music was blaring and Blink, Racetrack, and Snitch were running around wildly, throwing Davey's hat to each other.

"C'mon guys, give it back!" he begged, trying to snatch it away.

Gill appeared, the first of the group to see the three. "Oh good!" she exclaimed. "You haven't been sold for sexual pleasures. Although Blink would have been able to use some of his connections to find you I suppose."

"Gill!" Camille yelled over the music. "For the last time! Blink is a newsie! That's not a nice term for 'male prostitute' as much as you bring up that odd fact. He sells newspapers! For goodness sake! Get it through your head!"

Gill pursed her lips. "Well that was a rather bitter reunion," then she walked back to the kitchen, mumbling about how newsies sell on corners, much the same as what she referred to Blink as, and sent Alicia to deal with their moody friend.

"Oh my god you're back!" Alicia squealed, throwing her arms around them all. "Did you tell the police?"

"We stopped there on da way back," Spot answered. "Took forevah."

"Hmm," Alicia hummed. "I wonder why Officer Overstreet didn't call…"

"You probably couldn't hear over the music," Camille called out into the noise.

"What?" Alicia yelled as the other newsies noticed the homecoming and joined in on the greeting.

Snitch ran over, grabbing Camille around the waist and spinning, "You're baaaaaaack!"

"Down boy!" Camille screamed, dizzy.

Gill had returned. "The sugar apparently makes him much more social," she explained of Snitch's unusual disposition.

Camille nodded, then the brownie's smell penetrated her thoughts. "Wait, we were kidnapped and you guys came to my house to bake?!"

"It was all I could think to do!" Alicia cried. The buzzer from the oven went off, signaling another finished batch. "You want one?"

"No," Camille said caustically, entering the kitchen. It seemed that every flat surface held some sort of platter of brownies. "Whoa."

"Like I said," Alicia approached her from behind. "I didn't know what else to do."

Camille, finally feeling the need for a bit of chocolate comfort, grabbed an entire tray of steaming, gooey brownies and plopped down at the table between Blink and Snitch. They were both bouncing in their seats, hyped up on sugar. Racetrack had commenced running throughout the house, clutching to Davey's stolen hat and giggling maniacally, even though no one was bothering to chase after him. Clearly the boys were unused to such an amount of sugary goodness.

Alicia had handed Mush a batch of his own and he dug in excitedly. The three who had been kidnapped hadn't eaten for two days and were starving for something tasty to fill their grumbling bellies. Spot was poking cautiously at the plate that had been shoved into his hands, wary of the effects they had on the other boys. Camille, on the other hand, seemed immune, as she forked the baked good into her mouth, savoring each bite as Blink and Snitch watched her greedily, for they had been forbid to have any more brownies.

"You guys are like vultures," Camille mumbled between bites.

Racetrack ran energetically into a wall of the kitchen, not watching where he was running, with and audible thump, dropping to the ground. "Dude," he said in surprise.

"Oh, great," Camille thought aloud. "They're picking up some of our words! What're we gonna do when they get back? They don't use that word—"

Gill held up a finger. "Actually, I do believe New Yorkers use that slang term."

Camille stared at her, then remembered that Gill still had no idea the boys were from a different time. Not that she would have believed Camille and Alicia if they told her. "Yes…well, um," Camille looked at Alicia, who was happily removing yet _another_ tray of brownies from the overused stove. "They're going back Friday night," she informed the crowd, hoping Alicia would understand not to discuss it in front of an unknowing Gill. Of course, Alicia's mouth worked before her brain did.

"How?" she asked incredulously.

"On a plane," Camille said through grit teeth.

Alicia's eyebrows knit together. "You can take a plane to get back to—" her sentence was cut off by Camille purposely choking on a brownie.

Snitch began patting her enthusiastically on the back while Blink shouted motivational phrases at her, encouraging her to cough up the bit of brownie that she hadn't actually choked on. "Okay! Okay! I'm better now," she cried when Snitch's pats became violently hard. The two boys beamed at each other about their success with saving a life.

Racetrack passed out from where he was seated when he slid down the floor. "Looks like he finally crashed," Gill observed. "About time, too."

"Crashed?" Mush asked, running in place, scooping brownies up with his bare hands.

Gill nodded, explaining, "Sugar gives you a high, and then drops you, using all of your energy."

At that moment Blink yawned, "I'm tired," before his head dropped onto the table and he was asleep.

"Well I'm not!" Snitch proclaimed as he stood gallantly, immediately collapsing into a snoring, thumb-sucking heap on the tiled floor.

Spot put his untouched plate of brownies down on the counter, feeling no need to experience an energy draining sugar rush. Mush repeated Spot's action, but it was too late. His jogging became faster as he bounced up and down. Gill suggested he run around the house a few times. As Mush sprinted for the door, Davey entered the kitchen, pale and wiping his mouth.

"Where have you been?" Alicia asked, breezing by with the brownies she had extracted from the oven, making Davey gag. He clasped his hand to his mouth and ran back in the direction he had so recently come from, towards the bathroom. "Oh dear," Alicia whispered, "I guess brownies just don't agree with him"

They let the boys sleep where they fell, except for Mush, who they found curled up underneath a bush, singing in his sleep. Spot and Alicia dragged him inside, spreading him out on the couch. Davey was cuddled with himself in the tub, and Camille allowed Spot to reside on the living room chair, since the rest of the boys were in the house. Gill decided to go home, wanting to get back to her quantum physics equations. She told Camille that she would be back at school tomorrow, and that she would gladly pick up all of their homework for them, so that they didn't fall behind in their studies.

"I assume that you will all stay home tomorrow?" Gill asked.

"Fo sho!" Alicia exclaimed, taking every opportunity possible to skip.

"Then I will see you tomorrow when dropping off homework," Gill promptly added with a wave as she began home.

Turning to go back to the house, Alicia wondered, "What are we going to do tomorrow?"

"I'm going to tell you how we get to boys back to 1899, and no, it is _not _by plane, and then I'm going to bury myself in chores," Camille said sarcastically.

Alicia shrugged. "Are they really going back so soon?"

Camille breathed deeply. "Yup."

Alicia stared at the ground. "I'm gonna miss them," she spoke quietly.

Camille wrapped a comforting arm around her best friend, not having any words to soothe Alicia, and led her back to the house.

* * *

"Friday _night_?" Alicia yelled the next morning. Camille had just reiterated all that Madame Schleffel had explained to her and the two newsies, not expecting this outburst from her friend.

"Yeah, is that a problem?" Camille asked harshly, not understanding Alicia's frustration.

"Yes, that is a problem!" Alicia threw up her hands, eyes wildly roaming the room. "Friday night is the 'Blast to the Past' dance! I already have my outfit! And the boys have their actual clothes to wear!"

"Alicia! We have six boys who need to get back one-hundred-and-ten years and all you're worried about is some dance?"

"We can take them with! There are lots of things that glow at dances. Besides, it'll be fun dressing up…and I bought you a costume…" Alicia wouldn't meet Camille's eyes, knowing the girl hated dances.

"What?!" Camille's eyes bored holes through Alicia's skull.

Alicia held up her hands. "Chill! I know you don't like dresses and all, so, inspired by the new arrivals—" she gestured to the newsies that were still out of it "—I bought you your _own_ newsie clothing!" she clapped her hands excitedly.

Camille looked at her blandly. "Excuse me while I go scoop up horse shit," she replied flatly, exiting the house.

Alicia followed her to the door, shouting, "You'll have fun! You know it!"

Camille continued walking to the smaller of the two barns, waving off Alicia's undaunted cheeriness. She did the morning rounds of feeding, then grabbed up a pitch fork and dragged a wheelbarrow to the first stall, readying herself for a day of mucking out the entire barn. She was halfway through the stalls when Mush meandered in. "Hey," she greeted him, wiping her forehead.

"Ya need help with that?" he questioned, nodding towards the wheelbarrow, which was continuously becoming heavier.

"Oh, no—" Camille protested, but Mush had already grabbed the handles and was steering it towards the fertilizer pile at the other end of the barn. He smiled. "Thanks," she said, walking beside him. "Look," Camille began awkwardly. "About the other day, when I, er, kissed you—"

His laugh cut her off. "I didn't mind," he grinned. "'Sides, I'se've kissed someone ta make someone else jealous, too."

Camille stopped walking, "Wait, what?"

Mush halted as well, letting go of the wheelbarrow's handles, "What, did ya think I'se was some kid with no experience?"

Camille shook her head, "No, the jealous part. I did _not_ kiss you to make _Spot_ jealous."

Mush rolled his eyes, then proceeded towards the pile of manure. Camille sputtered behind him. "I—I—I…" she couldn't seem to get her words out. "I do _not_ like Spot!" she yelled.

Mush shrugged. "Whatever ya say." Then he tipped the muck out of the wheelbarrow and grinned at her knowingly. "I hear we'se is goin' ta a dance tomorrow," he changed the subject. "Save us both a dance." He winked, then left her with her jaw flapping like a fish.

Mush thought she liked Spot? That she had kissed him to make Spot jealous? What was _wrong_ with the world? She had kissed Mush to bring Spot down a couple notches. Right? There was a nagging voice in the back of her mind that said differently. As the possibility of liking Spot, actually _liking_ him, snaked through her thoughts, she grumpily threw open the next stall door, furiously attacking the dirty straw with her pitch fork.

Just as she reached the last stall, who should appear, but the cocky newsie himself. He leaned against the stall door as Camille tried coaxing Ranger, a large and temperamental bay horse, out so that she could thoroughly clean the stall. She scowled at Spot, who merely smirked at the difficulty she was having with the horse. She tugged gently at the lead line she held, clicking her tongue hopefully. Ranger snorted, not moving an inch.

"Sometimes ya gotta give 'em a little push," Spot advised, slipping past the girl into the stall, "Like this." Camille tried to yell a warning 'no', but before the word could leave her lips, Spot gave a forceful shove into Ranger's rump, who retaliated with one swift and fierce kick, then trotted easily out of the stall.

"SPOT!" Camille dropped Ranger's lead line as the horse swung his head back, innocently eyeing up the damage he had done. Camille frantically jumped over to the boy who lay in the damp and dirtied hay. She shook him, panicking with every second that passed by. Spot didn't even twitch.

"Oh my god," Camille whispered. "I've killed the leader of Brooklyn!"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Okay everybody, I have the next chapter all written, so you better review, or maybe I won't post it :P okay, I will post it, but the point is that you all need to review!! because we all want to know what happens to Spot right? Is he really dead? Or what? review! and you shall find out!


	9. Spot's New Parental Units

**Author's Note:** Now we shall find out what has happened to our cocky, yet beloved Spot! Plus, I was in a bit of a Blink mood, so there's a bit of him in here too! Woo! And thanks for all your reviews, they pretty much keep me going!

**Disclaimer:** Same as always...

* * *

Camille dragged the limp newsie out of Ranger's stall as carefully and quickly as she could, laying him out on clean bales of hay. "Oh shit, oh shit," she was muttering frantically, smoothing Spot's hair from his face. Ranger was wandering around the barn aimlessly, snorting in boredom. She hurried over to the bay horse, returning him to his stall, where he stood indignantly, furious at the fact that his stall was still dirtied. Camille glared at him, and he pinned his ears to the back of his head in frustration. She turned away from the heated horse and jogged back to Spot, who hadn't moved.

She wracked her brain for an idea as to what to do, and coming up with nothing, she flung open the door, glancing around frantically for someone, anyone. Her eyes landed on a puff of dust traveling up the gravel driveway: Gill. School must have got out and she was delivering their homework.

Out of the corner of Camille's eye she also spotted Blink, skipping about; apparently feeling well after his sugary evening. "Blink!" she screeched, running full out towards him, nearly tackling the bigger boy to the ground.

He looked at her worriedly, holding her at arms length, "Whattsa mattah?"

"Spot!" she got out, pointing towards the barn. "He's…I don't know…come on!" she tugged his hand, pulling him to the barn, capturing Gill, who had just climbed out of her car, on the way.

The three crowded around Spot, who was beginning to stir. "Oh good! He's not dead!" Camille exclaimed, leaning over him further. "C'mon Spot, wake up."

Spot's eyes fluttered open. He looked at Camille and Blink, a genuine smile that no one had ever seen before spreading across his face. They sighed in relief, until Spot spoke in an unnatural voice. "Mommy! Papa!" He encircled Blink and Camille's necks with his arms, hugging them close. The two exchanged glances as best they could with their cheeks pressed together.

"I ain't ya fathah," Blink said, eyebrows knit tightly. Spot looked up at him, bleary eyed, tears brimming over in those pools of blue.

Gill smacked Blink in the back of the head. "Shush!" she scolded. "He thinks you're his dad, and if you don't pretend to be then you could hinder his recovery." Camille snorted at Blink's baffled expression. "And you," Gill rounded on her. "You have to pretend to be his mother, or, same as with Blink, you could completely ruin his recovery process."

Camille crossed her arms. "Fudge," she mumbled.

Meanwhile, Spot was sitting very confused, wondering why his mother and father were acting so funny. "Mommy? Papa?" he asked in a strained voice, begging for attention from the couple.

Blink and Camille turned cautiously towards the childlike Spot. "Er, 'ello…son?" Blink tried unconvincingly.

Spot sniffled, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

"Comfort him," Gill whispered, pushing the reluctant 'parents' forward. "Console him."

Blink awkwardly patted Spot's back as Camille gingerly wrapped her arms around him; Spot leapt into her arms happily, giggling. "Papa! Join us," Spot requested of Blink, who, upon receiving a rather scathing glare from Gill, enthusiastically caught both Camille and Spot in a breath-catching bear hug. "How's my, er, family?" he asked pathetically.

Spot jumped from the smothering embraces. "Let's go play!" he demanded, running to the door and pulling it open to reveal Mush and the rest of the gang. "Uncle Mush!" Spot squealed, throwing his arms around the boy. "Have ya come ta play with Papa and Mommy and me?" Spot bounced excitedly.

Racetrack stepped forward. "Whattsa mattah whitchya Spot?" he asked, smoke billowing from his cigar.

Spot quivered and shook, then ran behind Blink. "Who's dat Papa?" he whispered at the eye-patched newsie.

"What's goin' on heah?" Race asked, angered.

"I don' like him Papa," Spot informed Blink as he grabbed onto one of Camille's hands, making her jump. Spot grinned up at her boyishly.

The rest of the crowd had leaked past Mush, who still stood stunned in the doorway. Snitch was back to his nervous self, even more bashful since his hyper outburst the previous night, and Davey had begun to stare at Alicia again, the effects of Race's warning on the first day of school wearing off. "Uncle Davey! Cousin Snitch! Ms. Alicia!" Spot screamed in excitement, racing over to hug them all. "Ms. Alicia is my teacher," Spot explained to Davey and Snitch, who stood next to each other in utter confusion. "We're learning numbers," he boasted proudly.

"He seems to have regressed into a made-up past of his own," Gill observed.

Spot spun around to smile at her. "Nanny Gill!" He turned back to Davey and Snitch, his hand up so that no one else could hear his hushed tone. "That's me nanny, she watches me when Mommy and Papa are away, or if they say they wants 'alone time'." He whispered the last two words and giggled, as if it were a secret.

Blink blushed at the connotations behind Spot's whispered words, glancing sideways at Camille to see if she had a similar reaction. Camille's hand rested on her hip, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

Racetrack's face was red. "A'right, what's goin' on?" he demanded to know.

Camille gulped guiltily. "He, well, he sorta got kicked in the head by a horse…"

"How do ya 'sorta' get kicked by a horse?" Snitch asked.

Alicia gasped, "Will he still be able to go to the dance?"

"Wait," Race broke in, "Why don' he remembah me? That ain't faih!" he advanced upon Spot. "'Ey! Spotty! C'mere!"

"No!" Spot wailed, throwing himself upon Blink in despair. "Papa! I don' wanna go ta the mad man! He scares me!"

"Buck up, Spot!" Race ordered, coming nearer.

Gill stepped between Racetrack and the 'family'. "Racetrack," she began to explain. "If Spot is expected to heal normally we don't want to cause him any stress in the current stage he's in."

Racetrack swore, stomping his foot as he left the barn in a rage, dragging Mush, who had remained in the doorway with a confused expression plastered to his face, along with him. "Wait," Mush protested, "That's me nephew!"

"No he ain't! That's Spot gone crazy," Race corrected with a scowl, his precious pride bruised from Spot's rejection.

Mush thought about that and nodded; following Race to make sure the Italian wouldn't do anything rash. If any newsie could calm someone down, it was Mush and his ever present cheer.

"Bye Uncle Mush!" Spot yelled sweetly.

Racetrack's string of Italian cuss words could be heard clearly from inside the barn. Blink cupped Spot's innocent ears with his hands, drowning out the crude sayings, even though they were in a language no one understood. The daylight outside was slowly waning, and Spot yawned.

"I think it's time for bed Spot," Camille suggested, meeting everyone's eyes, daring them to object. They all nodded enthusiastically to appease her.

Together, Blink and Camille tucked Spot into the bed located in the guest bedroom. "Mommy! Papa! Lay with me!" The two were about to protest when they heard a scolding cough come from the hallway. Gill had just walked by.

"Er, of course we'se'll do that," Blink obliged, lifting the covers and crawling uncomfortably between them. Spot sqweed and suffocated Blink with a tight hug.

"Mommy, on da othah side," Spot declared.

"Um, right," Camille mumbled, crawling over the two boys to get to Spot's unoccupied side. He caught her in the same suffocating vice grip that Blink had received.

Spot sighed contently, closing his eyes and slowly drifting off to sleep. His breathing soon became even, signaling his slumber, and Blink slid carefully out of the bed. Camille was climbing over Spot when the boy rolled, inadvertently taking Camille's stiff form and pinning her beneath him. "Help!" Camille hissed, trying to push Brooklyn's leader off of her.

Blink lifted the smaller boy off of Camille as she squirmed her way out from underneath Spot. "Thanks." Blink nodded in return, and as they left, Spot snuggled with some pillows.

"There's da happy couple," Racetrack sneered as they entered the kitchen.

"Shut it Race," Camille snarled, distraught about the turn of events that day.

"Dear me," he joked. "Whatevah should I do now that Spot's mommy has reprimanded me?"

Camille growled and tackled the dark haired newsie to the ground. Mush and Blink sprang forward, carrying her off of Race. "Easy," Mush calmed.

"Just because you're sore and jealous that Spot can't remember you, doesn't mean that you can take it out on the people that somehow did manage to get into his messed up little world," she yelled in as quiet a voice as she could muster while still sounding pissed off.

Racetrack had a look of surprise plastered to his face. "Gee, sorry, Chip," he said. "I didn' realize you'se was so uh, emotional."

Camille shook Blink and Mush off of her. She held out Race's hat, which she had bundled in her fist from when she had snatched it off of his head. "'S okay," she replied, then apologized too, for her unexpected attack. "Truce?"

Race spit in his hand appreciatively, he hated having girls angry with him, they could get brutal. "Truce," he agreed, and she grasped his hand. "So, Chip, how does it feel ta have Blink's child?" Race winked, then backed away with a chuckled as Camille punched him jokingly in the shoulder.

"Shuddup."

* * *

It was Friday evening and Alicia was smoothing back Spot's hair as he bounced happily in the chair she had him seated in. The boy was excited to be going to a special occasion with his parents and other relatives, he had even finally accepted Race as a friend after a long talk with Alicia. Spot just didn't understand why he was being forced to wear such strange clothes. He had been told five times already to stop fiddling with the red suspenders they were making him wear. "You're going to look so handsome," Alicia cooed. She had taken it upon herself to entertain Spot for the day since she adored looking after little kids. "Camille can't possibly resist you now." For it was obvious to the group at large that Spot and Camille had _some_ potential, and that both were much to stubborn about it.

Spot looked up at her, scrunching his face. "What?"

"Oh, nothing! Nevermind!" Alicia yelled, realizing her mistake. Desperate for a subject change she blurted out, "Spot, darling, I think you look so dashing in those suspenders!"

He giggled up at her, completely forgetting the slip of the tongue. Blink staggered into the kitchen, as if he had been pushed. "Camille wants ta talk ta ya," he informed Alicia, jabbing his thumb behind him.

Alicia skipped from the kitchen as Blink came to sit by Spot. "How da I look Daddy?" he asked, Alicia had been able to convert him to using the more modern fraternal term.

Blink grinned down, for he had felt more fatherly as the day had progressed, and even though Camille wouldn't admit it, she was being sickeningly sweet as well. "Ya look great, Spot!" Spot bounced even faster, more excited than he had been before.

Alicia burst into Camille's room, beaming in triumph over conquering Spot's locks of hair, until she noticed Camille on the bed, chewing her fingernails to the quick. She was decked out in the costume Alicia had purchased for her: brown shorts, yellowy shirt, navy suspenders and a matching cap.

"Dude, what's wrong," she rushed over to her nervous friend. "You look spiffy!"

"I don't think I can do this," Camille squeaked. "I mean, Spot's a _child_ now! We can't take him to a high school dance, what'll that do to him? I don't want to mess up my baby at some school function!" She buried her face in her hands.

"Did you just call Spot your baby?" Alicia asked with a giggle.

Camille sighed. "I've been calling him that all day, acting as his mother," she reminded the girl sitting next to her.

"Riiight," Alicia replied skeptically, then moved on. "But we _have_ to go to the dance. The guys are actually excited for it…except Snitch, he's afraid that some girl will abduct him I think…and if you say Spot can't go you'll crush his itty bitty heart!"

Camille had to hand it to the girl, she sure knew where to hit you in an argument. She allowed herself a small laugh. "We'll have Gill watch over Snitch," she gave in. "And Blink and I will watch Spot, so you're in charge of Davey, Mush, and Race."

Alicia cheered at Camille's passivity. "C'mon," Alicia grabbed Camille's hands, dragging her off the bed. "We wanna get there early so we can spend as much time dancing away the night as possible!"

Camille stopped her friend, "We also wanna spend as much time possible looking for some sort of glowing object to send the guys home. Schleffel said if we miss this, catastrophic events could ensue."

"Lighten up!" Alicia bubbly responded. "We'll watch, but we're going to have fun while doing it!" She shoved Camille into the kitchen.

Spot automatically ran up, wrapping his arms around her middle and squeezed. "Mommy! Ya look different."

"Hey, hun," she greeted the boy. "You ready to go?"

Spot nodded, smiling.

"To the dance!" Alicia proclaimed, throwing her fist in the air dramatically, leading the way out the door.

"Woo!" Mush joined in, and Race and Snitch followed suit. Davey was trotting behind Alicia, per usual.

Spot leaped after them, not wanting to miss out on anything, and Camille and Blink left the house last.

As Camille locked up the door before the group's departure, a feeling of doom crept into the pit of her stomach, making her queasy, and with a strange thought that she may never return home again, she took a lingering look around the ranch, and climbed into the truck.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yes, Spot did actually 'sqwee' when Blink and Camille climbed into the bed like he asked, that was not a typo, because I think it would be so adorable to see Spot Conlon of all people randomly sqwee!

And boy, it feels weird saying this, but the story is drawing to a close! There's only going to be like, one or two chapters left! *gasp* But who knows...maybe I'll be like some of those author's who just can't let their story go and continue writing and writing with absolutly no point because I simply don't want to end my story...much like this hideously long author's note ha ha!

Review please! and I will love you forever and a newsie of your choice will sqwee over you, deal?


	10. Blast to the Past

**Author's Note:** Oh. My. Newsie. This is the last chapter! *wipes away a tear* Well, I'd like to thank WolfxAngel, Readergirl21, analogheart828, Smiley94 and Mids-all-the-way (where have you gone?!?! ha ha), GlowingGreenEyes, huffle-bibin (Mush is standing shirtless, clutching a tray of brownies, hoping you feel better, and, oh yes, also squeeing over you :D) and, last, but most definately not least, CES5410 (your reviews always made me smile and I could always count on one! I'm so glad you sqweed over my last chapter! My life's work is done! ha ha). Thank you Thank you Thank you!

**Disclaimer:** I created Camille, Alicia, and Gill, the rest belongs to Disney

* * *

Camille stood, grimacing in the pack of dancing high school students. She hated dances, absolutely abhorred them. Apparently she had been deprived of the dancing gene, handicapping her in the area of fluid motion. Not only that, but public displays of affection were amped up due to the fact that the couples seemed to forget that, although there are only strobe lights on, there is still enough light to see them grinding against one another and shoving their tongues down each others throats. Gross. Camille hurried away from a particular couple that was quickly reaching that level and spied Spot jumping about giddily, pretending to be a woodland faerie, Blink chasing after him to make sure he didn't bring any harm upon himself or others. It was a rather odd sight to see the King of Brooklyn, cane in hand, frolicking about a black lighted area, with Kid Blink, sweet, semi-blind newsie of Manhattan, awkwardly stalking after him. Luckily none of the dancers noticed, much too into their own dancing skills to care.

Gill and Davey were sitting on fold out chairs that had been placed around the decorated gymnasium, discussing mathematical equations, finding the dance to be an utter waste of time. Mush, Racetrack, and Alicia were performing a rather nifty little tap number together, Snitch hovering nervously about them, glancing around in concern of the numerous people around.

Camille slunk her way out of the crowd, eyes peeled for something that glowed without the help of an extension cord. Seeing nothing and needing some quiet, she jimmied the lock of a room located off of the gym, filled with ping-pong tables for the Racquet Sports gym class. She leaned against one of the tables, breathing deeply and trying to think of the most logical place that a glowing object pertaining to New York would be. The history department seemed the most likely choice, and she began brainstorming possible areas that contained New Yorkish items.

Alicia's voice came slicing through her thoughts. "Dude! Great idea! The only thing that could make that dance better is some intense ping-pong playing…and maybe some pickles…but ping-pong will do! Who wants to be on my side?" she asked of the three boys that had followed her into the previously silent room.

Spot pushed his way through Mush and Racetrack, quickly followed by an out-of-breath Blink. "I wanna be on Mommy's team," he announced, holding his hand high in the air to be seen.

Camille looked around at her friends incredulously, "No, we're not playing ping-pong; we need to find a way to send you guys back."

"Sometimes there're glow-in-the-dark ping-pong balls," Alicia pointed out in excitement.

Camille gave her a dead-pan look. "Do they have the ability to transport people to 1899?" she asked sarcastically.

Thinking for a minute about the prospect, Alicia finally said, "No…"

"Then we're not going to play with glowing balls!" Camille yelled in frustration. No one was taking the situation seriously; did they not realize the possible consequences?

Racetrack stepped forward, "Whoa, cool it, Chip."

"Do not tell me to 'cool it' Racetrack Cornelius Higgins!" Camille yelled, then added satirically, "Unless you've somehow found out how to get back to New York." Race hung his head, hating to be scolded, by a girl his age of all people.

Camille stormed from the room, into a deserted hallway of the school. It was the art corridor, which contained the many works the artists of Houlton High produced. She strolled along, admiring paintings, breathing deeply, and trying to calm herself down. Spot sped toward her. "Whadda we'se lookin' for Mommy?" he asked sweetly.

She smiled over at him. It was hard pretending to be a mother when you had to look _up_ into the 'child's' eyes. Those gorgeous eyes. And adorable nose…and lips. _Oh god,_ Camille thought. _I've got it bad for a boy who thinks I'm his mother!_ And then she stopped. It was the first time she had openly and clearly admitted what she felt for the leader of Brooklyn, and for some reason it sent her heart fluttering. _Idiot!_ she screamed to herself. _He thinks you're his mother! Plus you have to send him back over an hundred years into the past!_

"Mommy?" Spot repeated.

"Oh, right, um, Spot, we're looking for something that's glowing," she explained.

"Oh! Like that?" Spot pointed ahead of him to a painting on the wall. Camille glanced up and did a double take, staring in awe at the painted Manhattan scenery shining brightly with an unnatural gleam.

"Yes, Spot, just like that," Camille said in hushed tones. "Now, run back and get, er, Daddy and the others; tell Alicia to get Davey, okay? Can you do that for Mommy?"

"Of course!" Spot smiled as he sprinted back to the dance, happy to make his mother happy.

Camille stepped closer to the picture. It was a beautiful scene of a cobble stone street complete with carriages and tiny newsies of its own. Brick buildings dominated the landscape and a river could be seen in the background. As her hand stretched out toward it, a loud shout from the end of the corridor sounded, "No!"

She turned to see Blink, Mush, Racetrack, Snitch, and Spot dashing her way. "What?" she asked, puzzled.

"Don't touch it," Race panted.

"Okay…"

"It's how we'se got here," Blink explained.

Race chuckled, "Bone-head heah is the one that touched the foist item." Blink blushed as Mush punched him good-naturedly.

Camille smiled, an ache slowly making its way to her chest. _Don't cry!_ she scolded herself. "Well, maybe we should start saying…good-bye," she suggested chokingly.

A quiet took over the hallway as they stared at each other, reality settling in upon them. The boys were going back, and never returning. "Good-bye?" Spot whimpered.

Camille could feel the tears coming. "Yes, Spot. You and Daddy are going to go on a fun trip for a while," she lied expertly.

Spot furrowed his brows. "Ain't ya comin' with us?"

Camille shook her head. "No Spot, I can't."

"Then I'se'll stay heah with ya," Spot declared hopefully.

Camille sniffed, "You have to go with Daddy, Spot."

Spot wailed. "But I wanna stay with ya Mommy!" he cried out, grasping her in a hug laying his head on her shoulder.

Instinctively she wrapped her arms around him, "I wish you could," she whispered truthfully. She knew getting attached was going to lead to problems, so how did she end up becoming so close to these boys in a mere week? And why did the one she wanted only recognize her as his mother? "Mommy's going to say good-bye to Daddy now." Spot reluctantly let her go and walked dejectedly over to Mush, who slung a comforting arm around the boy.

Blink stepped forward, trying to grin brilliantly. They hugged, then stepped apart from each other. "What ya gonna do without a husband?" he joked. "You'se gonna be a free woman." They laughed and Racetrack came forward.

His hat was in his hands. "Well, Chip, its gonna be different without seein' ya everyday," he commented.

"Just give me a hug Race," Camille laughed, enveloping the gambling man.

"A'right, a'right," he relented, returning the gesture with vigor. Then he reached into his pocket and took out a tattered deck of cards held together with a rubber band. "It's gonna get borin' without us, so I'se want ya ta have me lucky deck. Alicia said you'se was a mastah pokah playah, and, well, don' tell 'er I said so, but she needs the practice. Teach 'er well," he instructed.

The tears the girl had been holding back dripped from her eyes. "Oh Race!" and she caught him up in another hug, accepting the deck graciously, trying not to bend the already dog-eared edges.

Snitch was next in the line. He was bashful and mumbled, awkwardly returning the embrace Camille forced upon him. In a sudden surge of daring he twirled her around like he had done during his sugar rush, making Camille giggle, a sound she had practically never uttered, and cry even more.

Mush swept her up in a rib crushing bear-hug, not wanting to let go of his new friend. "Well, I'se certainly won't forget ya, what with that kiss ya laid on me," he grinned.

"I won't forget you either, Mush," she replied, giving him a cute peck on the cheek, causing a pink to flush into the boy's face.

No one noticed how close they had huddled around the painting until Alicia's strangled shout of "we're coming" erupted from down the hallway.

Alicia, Davey, and Gill came flooding down the hall, Gill successfully halting, Alicia and Davey losing balance and pitching forward, crashing into the group. The result was a domino-like proceeding, right up to Mush, who was launched into the painting.

After Gill was able to regain sight from the abrupt flash of light, she stared at the vacant space before her, bringing her hand up to her mouth. "Oh, dear…"

* * *

"Why do ya always have ta be on top?" Spot smirked from underneath Camille. He rolled, pinning her purposefully below him, and, without warning, kissed her soundly, his tongue dancing around her lips, making her gasp, surrendering her mouth unintentionally to the boy on top of her.

He pulled away with a grin that she slapped off his face. "How _dare_ you kiss me!" Then she pulled him close in a hug. "But you're back to normal! I loved you as a child, but pretending to be your mom was getting pretty old."

"Yeah, yeah, you'se is strangling me!" he mildly protested, then began kissing her face.

Camille chuckled, "Spot! Stop!" But really, she wouldn't have minded if he continued, which he did, smirking into the crook of her neck.

A scuffling next to their heads cut short their newly found joy as the two looked around. Racetrack, Davey, Mush, Alicia, and Blink, along with Spot and Camille were strewn about a dark, moon-lit street made of cobble stone. A flame lit lamp post stood on the nearest corner, illuminating a few of the store fronts and a shoe-shine station. Camille's face fell, dread swiftly taking over her cheeriness.

A stray newspaper blew smack into Kid Blink's face. He seized it, after squealing in surprise, searching the front page, and letting out an excited yelp. "Boys! We'se back!"

Alicia and Camille met each other's eyes, fear growing in each pair. Back? Back where? If they were back, then what were Camille and Alicia doing with them. That wasn't part of the plan! No, Camille and Alicia were only supposed to help the newsies on their way, not actually continue on the way with them!

Alicia, who had landed, sprawled out, next to Blink and Racetrack ripped the paper from the patched newsie's hands, scanning the front page as well. Her mouth formed an "o" and she dropped the paper. It gently floated Camille's direction.

Rapidly aware of the comfortable, yet wrong she reminded herself, weight of Spot on top of her, she shoved him off and snatched the paper up. Spot complained under his breath, clearly back to the cocky, self-absorbed leader that he was. There, under the paper's name, was the date. Camille choked on words that she didn't know to say. The headline anounced the end of the Newsboy Strike. The strike that had taken place in...

1899.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So ends the Newsie's adventure of present day Wisconsin. I'm not sure if I'll write a sequel to this story or not about what the girls do or anything like that. Maybe sometime if I feel like it or feel inspired I'll continue on...It wouldn't be for a while though, considering school is piling on the homework and I've got a few other stories I'm supposed to work on :( I'd just like to say thanks one last time to all of you! Your reviews are what helped me continue on with the story instead of breaking down into a blubbering pile of reviewless tears ha ha!


End file.
